The parable of the prodigal son, the most beautiful fiction that ever was invented; our Saviour's speech to His disciples, with which He closed His earthly ministrations, full of the sublimest dignity and tenderest affection, surpass everything that I ever read; and like the spirit by which they were dictated, fly directly to the heart.

Still ending, and beginning still.

Then liberty, like day, Breaks on the soul, and by a flash from Heaven Fires all the faculties with glorious joy.

The solemn fop; significant and budge; A fool with judges, amongst fools a judge

Gardening imparts an organic perspective on the passage of time.

In indolent vacuity of thought.

Lights of the world, and stars of human race.