Death will come when thou art dead, soon, too soon.

If God has spoken, why is the world not convinced.

Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.

Oh that simplicity and innocence its own unvalued work so seldom knows!

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.

One word is too often profaned For me to profane it, One feeling too falsely disdained For thee to disdain it.

Every man, in proportion to his virtue, considers himself, with respect to the great community of mankind, as the steward and guardian of their interests in the property which he chances to possess. Every man, in proportion to his wisdom, sees the manner in which it is his duty to employ the resources which the consent of mankind has intrusted to his discretion.