The stars shall fade away, the sun himself Grow dim with age, and nature sink in years, But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth, Unhurt amidst the wars of elements, The wrecks of matter, and the crush of worlds.

For ever singing as they shine, The hand that made us is divine.

A friend exaggerates a man's virtues; an enemy inflames his crimes.

Every passion gives a particular cast to the countenance, and is apt to discover itself in some feature or other. I have seen an eye curse for half an hour together, and an eyebrow call a man a scoundrel.

Thy steady temper, Portius, Can look on guilt, rebellion, fraud, and Cæsar, In the calm lights of mild philosophy.

Nothing, says Longinus, can be great, the contempt of which is great.

There is not a more unhappy being than a superannuated idol.