Those flimsy webs that break as soon as wrought, attain not to the dignity of thought.
The darkest day, if you live till tomorrow, will have passed away.
His wit invites you by his looks to come, But when you knock, it never is at home.
No man can be a patriot on an empty stomach.
I pity them greatly, but I must be mum, for how could we do without sugar and rum?
Ye fearful saints fresh courage take, The clouds you so much dread Are big with mercy and shall break, With blessings on your head