O God, How Lovely Still Is Life!

I Know That We Often Tremble At An Empty Terror; Yet The False Fancy Brings A Real Misery.

An Honest Man You May Form Of Windle-straws, But To Make A Rogue You Must Have Grist.

Of All The Possessions Of This Life Fame Is The Noblest; When The Body Has Sunk Into The Dust The Great Name Still Lives.

The Storm Is Master. Man, As A Ball, Is Tossed Twixt Winds And Billows.

Did You Think The Lion Was Sleeping Because He Didn't Roar?