What an ornament and safeguard is humor! Far better than wit for a poet and writer. It is a genius itself, and so defends from the insanities.
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.
He that follows the advice of reason has a mind that is elevated above the reach of injury; that sits above the clouds, in a calm and quiet ether, and with a brave indifferency hears the rolling thunders grumble and burst under his feet.
Love, to her ear, was but a name, Combin’d with vanity and shame; Her hopes, her fears, her joys, were all Bounded within the cloister wall.
Those who are too idle to read, save for the purpose of amusement, may in these works acquire some acquaintance with history, which, however inaccurate, is better than none.
Mystery has great charms for womanhood.
Though varying wishes, hopes, and fears, Fever’d the progress of these years, Yet now, days, weeks, and months but seem The recollection of a dream.
Give me an honest laugher.
Oh, on that day, that wrathful day, When man to judgment wakes front clay, Be Thou, O Christ, the sinner’s stay, Though heaven and earth shall pass away.
Well, then – our course is chosen – spread the sail – Heave oft the lead, and mark the soundings well – Look to the helm, good master – many a shoal Marks this stern coast, and rocks, where sits the Siren Who, like ambition, lures men to their ruin.
Greatness of any kind has no greater foe than a habit of drinking.
Fortune may raise up or abuse the ordinary mortal, but the sage and the soldier should have minds beyond her control.
Methinks I will not die quite happy without having seen something of that Rome of which I have read so much.
Land of my sires! what mortal hand Can e’er untie the filial band That knits me to thy rugged strand!
Fair play is a jewel.
The summer dawn’s reflected hue To purple changed Lock Katrine blue, Mildly and soft the western breeze Just kiss’d the lake, just stirr’d the trees, And the pleased lake, like maiden coy, Trembled but dimpled not for joy.
Meat eaten without either mirth or music is ill of digestion.
Do not Christians and Heathens, Jews and Gentiles, poets and philosophers, unite in allowing the starry influences?
Caution comes too late when we are in the midst of evils.
A mother’s pride, a father’s joy.