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

My soul is sick with every day's report of wrong and outrage with which earth is filled.

Habits are soon assumed; but when we strive to strip them off, 'tis being flayed alive.

Nature is a good name for an effect whose cause is God.

The parson knows enough who knows a Duke.

The beggarly last doit.

Spare feast! a radish and an egg.