Lights of the world, and stars of human race.

Solitude, seeming a sanctuary, proves a grave; a sepulchre in which the living lie, where all good qualities grow sick and die

It is a terrible thought, that nothing is ever forgotten; that not an oath is ever uttered that does not continue to vibrate through all times, in the wide spreading current of sound; that not a prayer is lisped, that its record is not to be found st

No man can be a patriot on an empty stomach.

The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flower.

'Tis liberty alone that gives the flower Of fleeting life its lustre and perfume; And we are weeds without it.

A tale should be judicious, clear, succinct; The language plain, and incidents well link'd; Tell not as new what ev'ry body knows; and, new or old, still hasten to a close.