There is not a string attuned to mirth but has its chord of melancholy.

When Eve upon the first of Men The apple press'd with specious cant, Oh! what a thousand pities then That Adam was not Adamant!

Comfort and indolence are cronies.

Some minds improve by travel, others, rather, resemble copper wire, or brass, which get the narrower by going farther.

Extremes meet', as the whiting said with its tail in its mouth.

How widely its agencies vary,- To save, to ruin, to curse, to bless,- As even its minted coins express, Now stamp'd with the image of Good Queen Bess, And now of a Bloody Mary.

No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds - November!