Still seems it strange, that thou shouldst live forever? Is it less strange, that thou shouldst live at all? This is a miracle; and that no more.
— Edward Young
An angel's arm can't snatch me from the grave; legions of angels can't confine me there.
Wise it is to comprehend the whole.
Read nature; nature is a friend to truth.
A God all mercy is a God unjust.
Much learning shows how little mortals know; much wealth, how little wordlings enjoy.
The purpose firm is equal to the deed.
All men think that all men are mortal but themselves.
Revere thyself, and yet thyself despise.
Truth never was indebted to a lie.
Friendship's the wine of life: but friendship new... is neither strong nor pure.
Wishing of all employments is the worst.
By all means use some time to be alone.
The future... seems to me no unified dream but a mince pie, long in the baking, never quite done.
Procrastination is the thief of time.
The maid that loves goes out to sea upon a shattered plank, and puts her trust in miracles for safety.
The weak have remedies, the wise have joys; superior wisdom is superior bliss.
Wonder is involuntary praise.
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.
Some for renown, on scraps of learning dote, And think they grow immortal as they quote.
None think the great unhappy, but the great.
Less base the fear of death than fear of life.
Our birth is nothing but our death begun, As tapers waste the moment they take fire.
A man of pleasure is a man of pains.
Men may live fools, but fools they cannot die.
A friend is worth all hazards we can run.
How blessings brighten as they take their flight.
They only babble who practise not reflection.
Tomorrow is a satire on today, And shows its weakness.
Tomorrow is the day when idlers work, and fools reform.
The clouds may drop down titles and estates, and wealth may seek us, but wisdom must be sought.
The course of Nature is the art of God.
All men think all men mortal, but themselves.
By night an atheist half believes in a God.
Life is the desert, life the solitude, death joins us to the great majority.
Too low they build, who build beneath the stars.
Virtue alone has majesty in death.
Be wise with speed; a fool at forty is a fool indeed.
The house of laughter makes a house of woe.
A Christian is the highest style of man.
The man that makes a character, makes foes.
The man that blushes is not quite a brute.
A soul without reflection, like a pile Without inhabitant, to ruin runs.
There is something about poetry beyond prose logic, there is mystery in it, not to be explained but admired.
