There is a gravity which is not austere nor captious, which belongs not to melancholy nor dwells in contraction of heart: but arises from tenderness and hangs upon reflection.

Death stands above me, whispering low I know not what into my ear; Of his strange language all I know Is, there is not a word of fear.

The highest price we can pay for anything; is to ask it.

Justice is often pale and melancholy; but Gratitude, her daughter, is constantly in the flow of spirits and the bloom of loveliness.

The writing of the wise are the only riches our posterity cannot squander.

No good writer was ever long neglected; no great man overlooked by men equally great. Impatience is a proof of inferior strength, and a destroyer of what little there may be.

He who brings ridicule to bear against truth finds in his hand a blade without a hilt.