The common damn'd shun their society.
The grave, dread thing! Men shiver when thou'rt named: Nature appalled, Shakes off her wonted firmness.
How shocking must thy summons be, O death, to him that is at ease in his possessions! who, counting on long years of pleasure here, is quite unfurnished for the world to come.
Friendship! Mysterious cement of the soul, Sweet'ner of life, and solder of society.
Action, so to speak, is the genius of nature.
Whistling aloud to bear his courage up.