In those vernal seasons of the year when the air is calm and pleasant, it were an injury and sullenness against nature not to go out and see her riches, and partake in her rejoicing with heaven and earth.

They also serve who only stand and wait.

The martyrs shook the powers of darkness with the irresistible power of weakness.

Such sober certainty of waking bliss.

I sung of Chaos and Eternal Night, Taught by the heav'nly Muse to venture down The dark descent, and up to reascend.

A good principle not rightly understood may prove as hurtful as a bad.

From restless thoughts, that, like a deadly swarm Of hornets arm'd, no sooner found alone, But rush upon me thronging.