The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whispering wind, And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind.
The very pink of perfection.
If you were to make little fishes talk, they would talk like whales.
And what is friendship but a name, A charm that lulls to sleep, A shade that follows wealth or fame, And leaves the wretch to weep?
Tenderness is a virtue.
The soul may be compared to a field of battle, where the armies are ready every moment to encounter. Not a single vice but has a more powerful opponent, and not one virtue but may be overborne by a combination of vices.