The busy have no time for tears.

Be thou the rainbow in the storms of life. The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray.

I feel my immortality over sweep all pains, all tears, all time, all fears, - and peal, like the eternal thunders of the deep, into my ears, this truth, - thou livest forever!

If I don't write to empty my mind, I go mad.

Just as old age is creeping on space, And clouds come o'er the sunset of our day, They kindly leave us, though not quite alone, But in good company--the gout or stone.

A thirst for gold, The beggar's vice, which can but overwhelm The meanest hearts.

There is no traitor like him whose domestic treason plants the poniard within the breast that trusted to his truth