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

Tea - the cups that cheer but not inebriate.

To follow foolish precedents, and wink With both our eyes, is easier than to think.

The Cross! There, and there only (though the deist rave, and the atheist, if Earth bears so base a slave); There and there only, is the power to save.

Spare feast! a radish and an egg.

Unmissed but by his dogs and by his groom.

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