Spangling the wave with lights as vain As pleasures in the vale of pain, That dazzle as they fade.
Heaven know its time; the bullet has its billet
Without courage there cannot be truth, and without truth there can be no other virtue.
Chess is a sad waste of brains.
Commend me to sterling honesty though clad in rags.
The misery of keeping a dog is his dying so soon. But, to be sure, if he lived for fifty years and then died, what would become of me?