Of joys departed, not to return, how painful the remembrance.

Affectation is certain deformity; by forming themselves on fantastic models, the young begin with being ridiculous, and often end in being vicious.

Action, so to speak, is the genius of nature.

Of joys departed, not to return, how painful the remembrance.

Its visits, like those of angels, short, and far between.

Throughout the whole vegetable, sensible, and rational world, whatever makes progress towards maturity, as soon as it has passed that point, begins to verge towards decay.

Friendship! Mysterious cement of the soul, Sweet’ner of life, and solder of society.

How blunt are all the arrows of thy quiver in comparison with those of guilt.

When it draws near to witching time of night.

The grave, dread thing! Men shiver when thou’rt named: Nature appalled, Shakes off her wonted firmness.