We turn to dust, and all our mightiest works die too.
The few that pray at all pray oft amiss.
A fretful temper will divide the closest knot that may be tied, by ceaseless sharp corrosion; a temper passionate and fierce may suddenly your joys disperse at one immense explosion.
No man can be a patriot on an empty stomach.
Great offices will have great talents.
How sweet, how passing sweet, is solitude! But grant me still a friend in my retreat, whom I may whisper, solitude is sweet.