Where are the forms the sculptor's soul hath seized? In him alone, Can nature show as fair?

Think'st thou there is no tyranny but that Of blood and chains? The despotism of vice-- The weakness and the wickedness of luxury-- The negligence--the apathy--the evils Of sensual sloth--produces ten thousand tyrants, Whose delegated cruelty surpasses The worst acts of one energetic master, However harsh and hard in his own bearing.

There is something to me very softening in the presence of a woman, some strange influence, even if one is not in love with them, which I cannot at all account for, having no very high opinion of the sex. But yet, I always feel in better humor with myself and every thing else, if there is a woman within ken.

Next to dressing for a rout or ball, undressing is a woe.

A legal broom's a moral chimney-sweeper, And that's the reason he himself's so dirty

Alas! how deeply painful is all payment!

The cold, the changed, perchance the dead, anew, The mourn'd, the loved, the lost,-too many, yet how few!