Where thou art gone, adieus and farewells are a sound unknown.
They whom truth and wisdom lead, can gather honey from a weed.
The kindest and the happiest pair Will find occasion to forbear; And something, every day they live, To pity, and perhaps forgive.
Grief is itself a medicine.
How sweet, how passing sweet, is solitude! But grant me still a friend in my retreat, whom I may whisper, solitude is sweet.
Good sense, good health, good conscience, and good fame,--all these belong to virtue, and all prove that virtue has a title to your love.