Still sweet with blossoms is the year's fresh prime.
The hushed winds their Sabbath keep.
I shall seeThe hour of death draw near to me,Hope, blossoming within my heart. . . .
Autumn, the year's last, loveliest smile.
Genius, with all its pride in its own strength, is but a dependent quality, and cannot put forth its whole powers nor claim all its honors without an amount of aid from the talents and labors of others which it is difficult to calculate.
Self-interest is the most ingenious and persuasive of all the agents that deceive our consciences, while by means of it our unhappy and stubborn prejudices operate in their greatest force.