“There is in souls a sympathy with sounds: And as the mind is pitch’d the ear is pleased With melting airs, or martial, brisk or grave; Some chord in unison with what we hear Is touch’d within us, and the heart replies.”

There is in souls a sympathy with sounds.

No man can be a patriot on an empty stomach.

O Winter, ruler of the inverted year!

A fool must now and then be right, by chance

I pity them greatly, but I must be mum, for how could we do without sugar and rum?

God moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform. He plants his footsteps in the sea, and rides upon the storm.

God made the country, and man made the town.

God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform; He plants his footsteps in the sea, And rides upon the storm.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, but trust Him for His grace; Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face.

Detested sport, That owes its pleasures to another’s pain.

We turn to dust, and all our mightiest works die too.

Remorse begets reform.

Accomplishments have taken virtue’s place, and wisdom falls before exterior grace.

[My kitten’s] gambols are not to be described, and would be incredible, if they could.

The only amaranthine flower on earth is virtue; the only lasting treasure, truth.

Manner is all in all, whate’er is writ,The substitute for genius, sense, and wit.

My idea of exercise is a good brisk sit.

Time is a brisk wind, for each hour it brings something new.

To th’ active Moon a quick brisk stroke he gave, To Saturn’s string a touch more sore and grave.

Will it, and set to work briskly.