Grief should be the instructor of the wise; Sorrow is Knowledge.

Yet truth will sometimes lend her noblest fires, And decorate the verse herself inspires: This fact, in virtue's name, let Crabbe attest,- Though Nature's sternest painter, yet the best.

That famish'd people must be slowly nurst, and fed by spoonfuls, else they always burst.

In secret we met - In silence I grieve, That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee? - With silence and tears

That low vice, curiosity!

Be hypocritical, be cautious, be not what you seem but always what you see.

And the commencement of atonement is the sense of its necessity.