My days among the dead are passed; Around me I behold, Where'er these casual eyes are cast, The mighty minds of old; My never-failing friends are they, With whom I converse day by day.

Cupid "the little greatest god."

My name is Death: the last best friend am I.

That charity is bad which takes from independence its proper pride, from mendicity its salutary shame.

A wise judge, by the craft of the law, was never seduced from its purpose.

My notions of life are much the same as they are about traveling; there is a good deal of amusement on the road; but, after all, one wants to be at rest.

Thou hast been called, O sleep, the friend of woe, But 'tis the happy that have called thee so.