The darkest day, if you live till tomorrow, will have passed away.
Absence of proof is not proof of absence.
There is in souls a sympathy with sounds: And as the mind is pitch'd the ear is pleased With melting airs, or martial, brisk or grave; Some chord in unison with what we hear Is touch'd within us, and the heart replies.
Th' embroid'ry of poetic dreams.
The few that pray at all pray oft amiss.
To follow foolish precedents, and wink With both our eyes, is easier than to think.