There is no den in the wide world to hide a rogue. Commit a crime, and the earth is made of glass. Commit a crime, and it seems as if a coat of snow fell on the ground, such as reveals in the woods the track of every partridge and fox and squirrel and mole.

For it is not metres, but a metre-making argument that makes a poem.

Money often costs too much, and power and pleasure are not cheap.

For nonconformity the world will whip you with its displeasure.

We infer the spirit of the nation in great measure from the language, which is a sort of monument, to which each forcible individual in a course of many hundred years has contributed a stone.

Every heroic act measures itself by its contempt of some external good. But it finds its own success at last, and then the prudent also extol.

And what greater calamity can fall upon a nation than the loss of worship.