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

Those flimsy webs that break as soon as wrought, attain not to the dignity of thought.

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

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

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

They whom truth and wisdom lead, can gather honey from a weed.

Religion, richest favor of the skies.