Affection can withstand very severe storms of vigor, but not a long polar frost of indifference.

The way was long, the wind was cold, The Minstrel was infirm and old; His withered cheek, and tresses gray, Seemed to have know a better day.

He who indulges his sense in any excesses renders himself obnoxious to his own reason; and, to gratify the brute in him, displeases the man, and sets his two natures at variance.

Is death the last sleep? No, it is the last and final awakening.

I am she, O most bucolical juvenal, under whose charge are placed the milky mothers of the herd.

Hope is brightest when it dawns from fears.

Saint George and the Dragon!-Bonny Saint George for Merry England!-The castle is won!