Grief should be the instructor of the wise; Sorrow is Knowledge.
To what gulfs A single deviation from the track Of human duties leads even those who claim The homage of mankind as their born due, And find it, till they forfeit it themselves!
The devil hath not, in all his quiver's choice, An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.
Folly loves the martyrdom of fame.
But quiet to quick bosoms is a hell.
The lapse of ages changes all things - time, language, the earth, the bounds of the sea, the stars of the sky, and every thing about, around, and underneath man, except man himself.