A willing heart adds feather to the heel.
I have seen the day, when, if a man made himself ridiculous, the world would laugh at him. But now, everything that is mean, disgusting, and absurd, pleases them but so much the better!
Tis ever thus: indulgence spoils the base;
Raising up pride, and lawless turbulence,
Like noxious vapors from the fulsome marsh
When morning shines upon it.
A woman is seldom roused to great and courageous exertion but when something most dear to her is in immediate danger.
I believe this earth on which we stand is but the vestibule to glorious mansions through which a moving crowd forever press.
If my heart were not light, I would die.
Ah! happy is the man whose early lot Hath made him master of a furnish'd cot; Who trains the vine that round his window grows, And after setting sun his garden hoes; Whose wattled pails his own enclosure shield, Who toils not daily in another's field.
Men's actions to futurity appear but as the events to which they are conjoined do give them consequence.
Half-uttered praise is to the curious mind, as to the eye half-veiled beauty is, more precious than the whole.
The plainest case in many words entangling.
It ever is the marked propensity of restless and aspiring minds to look into the stretch of dark futurity.
Tis ever thus when favours are denied;
All had been granted but the thing we beg:
And still some great unlikely substitute--
Your life, your soul, your all of earthly good--
Is proffer'd, in the room of one small boon.
I am as one
Who doth attempt some lofty mountain's height,
And having gained what to the upcast eye
The summit's point appear'd, astonished sees
Its cloudy top, majestic and enlarged,
Towering aloft, as distant as before.
The mind doth shape itself to its own wants, and can bear all things.
There is a sight all hearts beguiling--
A youthful mother to her infant smiling,
Who with spread arms and dancing feet,
A cooing voice, returns its answer sweet.
It is so seldom that a young fellow has any inclination for the company of an old man. . .
Pride is a fault that great men blush not to own: it is the ennobled offspring of self-love; though, it must be confessed, grave and pompous vanity, Iike a fat plebeian in a rove of office, does very often assume its name.
Me care for te laws when te laws care for me.
War is honorable
In those who do their native rights maintain;
In those whose swords an iron barrier are
Between the lawless spoiler and the weak;
But is, in those who draw th' offensive blade
For added power or gain, sordid and despicable
As meanest office of the worldly churl.
Time never bears such moments on his wing as when he flies too swiftly to be marked.
Stand there, damn'd meddling villain, and be silent;
For if thou utt'rest but a single word,
A cough or hem, to cross me in my speech,
I'll send thy cursed spirit from the earth,
To bellow with the damn'd!
I can bear scorpion's stings, tread fields of fire, in frozen gulfs of cold eternal lie, be tossed aloft through tracts of endless void, but cannot live in shame.
O mysterious Night! thou art not silent; many tongues halt thou.
Sweet sleep be with us, one and all!
And if upon its stillness fall
The visions of a busy brain,
We'll have our pleasure o'er again,
To warm the heart, to charm the sight,
Gay dreams to all! good night, good night.
But dreams full oft are found of real events
The form and shadows.
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