In a fleshly tomb, I am buried above ground.

But still remember, if you mean to please, To press your point with modesty and ease.

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.

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

The rich are too indolent, the poor too weak, to bear the insupportable fatigue of thinking.

The kindest and the happiest pair Will find occasion to forbear; And something, every day they live, To pity, and perhaps forgive.

Accomplishments have taken virtue's place, and wisdom falls before exterior grace.