The debt immense of endless gratitude, So burthensome, still paying, still to owe; Forgetful what from him I still receivd, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and dischargd; what burden then?

Solitude is sometimes best society.

Most men admire Virtue who follow not her lore.

Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil.

A boundless continent, Dark, waste, and wild, under the frown of night Starless expos'd.

Every cloud has a silver lining.

Who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God's image; but he who destroys a good book, kills reason itself, kills the image of God, as it were, in the eye.