Where lives the man that has not tried How mirth can into folly glide, And folly into sin!
Mellow nuts have the hardest rind.
Sensibility is nature's celestial spring.
Profan'd the God-given strength, and marr'd the lofty line.
We do that in our zeal our calmer moment would be afraid to answer.
But search the land of living men, Where wilt thou find their like again?
It is a great disgrace to religion, to imagine that it is an enemy to mirth and cheerfulness, and a severe exacter of pensive looks and solemn faces.
Soldier, rest! Thy warfare o'er, Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, Dream of battled fields no more. Days of danger, nights of waking.
Vengeance to God alone belongs; But, when I think of all my wrongs My blood is liquid flame!
When Israel, of the Lord belov'd, Out of the land of bondage came, Her fathers' God before her mov'd, An awful guide in smoke and flame.
The heart-sick faintness of the hope delayed!
The sun never sets on the immense empire of Charles V.
Warriors! and where are warriors found, If not on martial Britain's ground? And who, when waked with note of fire, Love more than they the British lyre?
Faces that have charmed us the most escape us the soonest.
He hath a share of man's intelligence, but no share of man's falsehood.
Within that awful volume lies The mystery of mysteries!
Contentions fierce, Ardent, and dire, spring from no petty cause.
Covetousness bursts the sack and spills the grain.
Threatened folk live long.
The sickening pang of hope deferr'd.
For Love will still be lord of all.
For love is heaven and heaven is love.
Ambition is no cure for love!
When thinking about companions gone, we feel ourselves doubly alone.
Thou and I are but the blind instruments of some irresistible fatality, that hurries us along, like goodly vessels driving before the storm, which are dashed against each other, and so perish.
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