Far happier are the dead methinks than they who look for death and fear it every day.

But slaves that once conceive the glowing thought Of freedom, in that hope itself possess All that the contest calls for; spirit, strength, The scorn of danger, and united hearts, The surest presage of the good they seek.

All truth is precious, if not all divine; and what dilates the powers must needs refine.

Absence of proof is not proof of absence.

How sweet, how passing sweet, is solitude! But grant me still a friend in my retreat, whom I may whisper, solitude is sweet.

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

Visits are insatiable devourers of time, and fit only for those who, if they did not that, would do nothing.