Happy the man who sees a God employed in all the good and ills that checker life.

War's a game, which, were their subjects wise, Kings would not play at.

It chills my blood to hear the blest Supreme Rudely appealed to on each trifling theme.

With spots quadrangular of diamond form, ensanguined hearts, clubs typical of strife, and spades, the emblems of untimely graves.

[My kitten] is dressed in a tortoise-shell suit, and I know you will delight in her.

Not to understand a treasure's worth till time has stole away the slighted good, is cause of half the poverty we feel, and makes the world the wilderness it is.

Ye fearful saints fresh courage take, The clouds you so much dread Are big with mercy and shall break, With blessings on your head