"The Grave, dread thing! Men shiver when thou 'rt named: Nature, appall'd, Shakes off her wonted firmness."

"The Schoolboy, with his satchel in his hand, Whistling aloud to bear his courage up."

"Friendship! mysterious cement of the soul! Sweetener of life! and solder of society!"

"Of joys departed, Not to return, how painful the remembrance!"

"Our time is fixed, and all our days are number'd; How long, how short, we know not:—this we know, Duty requires we ca…"

"The cup goes round: And who so artful as to put it by! 'T is long since Death had the majority."

"The good he scorn'd Stalk'd off reluctant, like an ill-used ghost, Not to return; or if it did, in visits Like those …"

"The common damn'd shun their society."

"Yes! I could find some comfort in the thought Of being scourged, Were there but hope that this defiling sin Which mar…"

"O to be like my Lord! Yet must I be Mine own self too, And to the nature He bestowed on me Be frankly true.The olive …"