“Some wee short hour ayont the twal.”

Nature’s law, That man was made to mourn. Man’s inhumanity to man Makes countless thousands mourn! O Death, the poor man’s dearest friend, The kindest and the best!

Firmness in enduring and exertion is a character I always wish to possess. I have always despised the whining yelp of complaint and cowardly resolve.

Nae man can tether time or tide.

Critics! Those cut-throat bandits in the paths of fame.

To see her is to love her, And love but her forever; For nature made her what she is, And never made anither!

Here’s to us, who’s like us Damn few, and they’re all dead.

But facts are chiels that winna ding, An’ downa be disputed.

Dare to be honest and fear no labor.

But to see her was to love her, Love but her, and love forever.

Prudent, cautious self-control is wisdom’s root.

The upright, honest-hearted man Who strives to do the best he can, Need never fear the church’s ban Or hell’s damnation.

Anticipation forward points the view.

Or like the snow falls in the river, A moment white-then melts for ever.

If there’s another world, he lives in bliss; if there is none, he made the best of this.

Painters and poets have liberty to lie.

Hope springs exulting on triumphant wing.