Life... is a paradise to what we know of death.
Faster than spring-time showers comes thought on thought.
My language! heavens!I am the best of them that speak this speech. Were I but where 'tis spoken.
Things done well and with a care, exempt themselves from fear.
Never anything can be amiss, when simpleness and duty tender it.
He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone; At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone.