Roll on, deep and dark blue ocean, roll. Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain. Man marks the earth with ruin, but his control stops with the shore.

I have seen a thousand graves opened, and always perceived that whatever was gone, the teeth and hair remained of those who had died with them. Is not this odd? They go the very first things in youth and yet last the longest in the dust.

Religion-freedom-vengeance-what you will, A word's enough to raise mankind to kill.

Come what may, I have been blest.

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

Then, fare thee well, deceitful Maid!

Dreading that climax of all human ills the inflammation of his weekly bills.