The soul's joy lies in doing.

Sounds of vernal showers On the twinkling grass, Rain awaken'd flowers, All that ever was Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass

Love's Pestilence, and her slow dogs of war.

Poetry is a mirror which makes beautiful that which is distorted.

Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.

Their errors have been weighed and found to have been dust in the balance; if their sins were as scarlet, they are now white as snow: they have been washed in the blood of the mediator and the redeemer, Time.

A Christian, a Deist, a Turk, and a Jew, have equal rights: they are men and brethren.