'Twas strange that one so young should thus concern His brain about the action of the sky; If you think 'twas philosophy that this did, I can't help thinking puberty assisted.

What is Death, so it be but glorious? 'Tis a sunset; And mortals may be happy to resemble The Gods but in decay.

I have a notion that gamblers are as happy as most people - being always excited.

Glory, like the phoenix 'midst her fires, Exhales her odours, blazes, and expires.

Think not I am what I appear.

Friendship may, and often does, grow into love, but love never subsides into friendship.

He had kept The whiteness of his soul, and thus men o'er him wept.