Th' embroid'ry of poetic dreams.

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

Where thou art gone, adieus and farewells are a sound unknown.

'Tis liberty alone that gives the flower Of fleeting life its lustre and perfume; And we are weeds without it.

Strange as it may seem, the most ludicrous lines I ever wrote have been written in the saddest mood.

No man can be a patriot on an empty stomach.

In indolent vacuity of thought.