...So let us welcome peaceful evening in.

The earth was made so various, that the mind Of desultory man, studious of change, And pleased with novelty, might be indulged.

Ceremony leads her bigots forth, prepared to fight for shadows of no worth. While truths, on which eternal things depend, can hardly find a single friend.

But, oh, Thou bounteous Giver of all good, Thou art, of all Thy gifts, Thyself thy crown!

We are never more in danger than when we think ourselves most secure, nor in reality more secure than when we seem to be most in danger.

In a fleshly tomb, I am buried above ground.

Could he with reason murmur at his case, Himself sole author of his own disgrace?