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

O Winter, ruler of the inverted year!

He that has seen both sides of fifty has lived to little purpose if he has no other views of the world than he had when he was much younger.

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

Man disavows, and Deity disowns me: hell might afford my miseries a shelter; therefore hell keeps her ever-hungry mouths all bolted against me.

Ye fearful saints fresh courage take, The clouds you so much dread Are big with mercy and shall break, With blessings on your head

His wit invites you by his looks to come, But when you knock, it never is at home.