This man is freed from servile bands, Of hope to rise, or fear to fall; Lord of himself, though not of lands, And leaving nothing, yet hath all.

The Christian has greatly the advantage of the unbeliever, having everything to gain and nothing to lose.

The art of angling, the cruelest, the coldest and the stupidest of pretended sports.

Years steal fire from the mind as vigor from the limb; and life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.

Like to the apples on the Dead Sea's shore, All ashes to the taste.

I depart, Whither I know not; but the hour's gone by When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye.

Let no man grumble when his friends fall off, As they will do like leaves at the first breeze; When your affairs come round, one way or t'other, Go to the coffee house, and take another.