How Shocking Must Thy Summons Be, O

Our Time Is Fixed, And All Our Days Are Number'd; How Long, How Short, We Know Not:—this We Know, Duty Requires We Calmly Wait The Summons, Nor Dare To Stir Till Heaven Shall Give Permission.

Whistling Aloud To Bear His Courage Up.

Affectation Is Certain Deformity; By Forming Themselves On Fantastic Models, The Young Begin With Being Ridiculous, And Often End In Being Vicious.

The Grave, Dread Thing! Men Shiver When Thou'rt Named: Nature Appalled, Shakes Off Her Wonted Firmness.

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.