In indolent vacuity of thought.

A self-made man? Yes, and one who worships his creator.

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

No wild enthusiast could rest, till half the world like him was possessed.

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.

The proud are ever most provoked by pride.