There is no real wealth but the labour of man.
A pard-like spirit, beautiful and swift.
It is vain philosophy that supposes more causes than are exactly adequate to explain the phenomena of things.
If God has spoken, why is the world not convinced.
Duty and dereliction guide thee back to solitude.
A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.