O Gold! I still prefer thee unto paper, which makes bank credit like a bark of vapour.

Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime? Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime!

Oh, talk not to me of a name great in story; The days of our youth are the days of our glory; And the myrtle and ivy of sweet two-and-twenty Are worth all your laurels, though ever so plenty.

A man must serve his time to every trade, Save censure-critics all are ready made. Take hackney'd jokes from Miller, got by rote With just enough learning to misquote.

Out of chaos God made a world, and out of high passions comes a people.

The law of heaven and earth is life for life.

Men think highly of those who rise rapidly in the world; whereas nothing rises quicker than dust, straw, and feathers.