I pity them greatly, but I must be mum, for how could we do without sugar and rum?

The darkest day, if you live till tomorrow, will have passed away.

Gardening imparts an organic perspective on the passage of time.

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

Ceremony leads her bigots forth, prepared to fight for shadows of no worth. While truths, on which eternal things depend, can hardly find a single friend.

And diff'ring judgments serve but to declare that truth lies somewhere, if we knew but where.

The art of poetry is to touch the passions, and its duty to lead them on the side of virtue.