Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay.

Logicians have but ill defined As rational the human mind; Reason, they say, belongs to man, But let them prove it if they can.

And as a bird each fond endearment tries To tempt its new-fledg'd offspring to the skies, He tried each art, reprov'd each dull delay, Allur'd to brighter worlds, and led the way.

True wisdom consists of tracing effects to their causes.

The mind is ever ingenious in making its own distress.

I learn several great truths; as that it is impossible to see into the ways of futurity, that punishment always attends the villain, that love is the fond soother of the human breast.

We may affirm of Mr. Buffon, that which has been said of the chemists of old; though he may have failed in attaining his principal aim, of establishing a theory, yet he has brought together such a multitude of facts relative to the history of the earth, and the nature of its fossil productions, that curiosity finds ample compensation, even while it feels the want of conviction.