Man's conscience is the oracle of God.

The lapse of ages changes all things - time - language - the earth - the bounds of the sea - the stars of the sky, and everything 'about, around, and underneath' man, except man himself, who has always been and always will be, an unlucky rascal. The infinite variety of lives conduct but to death, and the infinity of wishes lead but to disappointment. All the discoveries which have yet been made have multiplied little but existence.

There is a tear for all who die, A mourner o'er the humblest grave.

Go let thy less than woman's hand Assume the distaff not the brand.

From the mingled strength of shade and light A new creation rises to my sight, Such heav'nly figures from his pencil flow, So warm with light his blended colors glow. . . . . The glowing portraits, fresh from life, that bring Home to our hearts the truth from which they spring.

I shall soon be six-and-twenty. Is there anything in the future that can possibly console us for not being always twenty-five?

There is music in all things, if men had ears.