The future… seems to me no unified dream but a mince pie long in the baking never quite done.
Men may live fools but fools they cannot die.
There is something about poetry beyond prose logic there is mystery in it not to be explained but admired.
The maid that loves goes out to sea upon a shattered plank and puts her trust in miracles for safety.
One to destroy is murder by the law and gibbets keep the lifted hand in awe to murder thousands takes a specious name ‘War’s glorious art’ and gives immortal fame.
Friendship’s the wine of life: but friendship new… is neither strong nor pure.
By all means use some time to be alone.
Virtue alone has majesty in death.
The clouds may drop down titles and estates and wealth may seek us but wisdom must be sought.
The weak have remedies the wise have joys superior wisdom is superior bliss.
Much learning shows how little mortals know much wealth how little wordings enjoy.
Some for renown on scraps of learning dote And think they grow immortal as they quote.
Less base the fear of death than fear of life.
Life is the desert life the solitude death joins us to the great majority.
Our birth is nothing but our death begun As tapers waste the moment they take fire.