That sweet sleep which medicines all pain.
Peace is in the grave.
It is among men of genius and science that atheism alone is found.
The cloud shadows of midnight possess their own repose.
Life and the world, or whatever we call that which we are and feel, is an astonishing thing. The mist of familiarity obscures from us the wonder of our being. We are struck with admiration at some of its transient modifications, but it is itself the great miracle.
Men must reap the things they sow, Force from force must ever flow.