Death in itself is nothing but we fear To be we know not what, we know not where.

• Look around the habitable world, how few Know their own good, or knowing it, pursue.
• Happy the man, and happy he alone, He, who can call to-day his own He who, secure within, can say, To-morrow do thy worst, for I have lived today.
• We must beat the iron while it is hot, but we may polish it at leisure.
• The gates of Hell are open night and day Smooth the descent, and easy is the way But, to return, and view the cheerful skies In this, the task and mighty labor lies.
• Death in itself is nothing but we fear To be we know not what, we know not where.
• Pains of love be sweeter far Than all other pleasures are.
• And virtue, though in rags, will keep me warm.
• Men are but children of a larger growth, Our appetites as apt to change as theirs, And full as craving too, and full as vain.
• A mob is the scum that rises upmost when the nation boils.
• Better shun the bait, than struggle in the snare.