A mighty pain to love it is, And 't is a pain that pain to miss; But of all pains, the greatest pain It is to love, but love in vain.
Life is an incurable disease.
For the whole world, without a native home, Is nothing but a prison of larger room.
Of all ills that one endures, hope is a cheap and universal cure.
I never had any other desire so strong, and so like covetousness, as that ... I might be master at last of a small house and a large garden, with very moderate conveniences joined to them, and there dedicate the remainder of my life to the culture of them and the study of nature.
Nothing is there to come, and nothing past, But an eternal Now does always last.
Gold begets in brethren hate; Gold in families debate; Gold does friendship separate; Gold does civil wars create.
The liberty of a people consists in being governed by laws which they have made themselves, under whatsoever form it be of government; the liberty of a private man, in being master of his own time and actions, as far as may consist with the laws of God and of his country.
Nothing so soon the drooping spirits can raise As praises from the men, whom all men praise.
Enjoy the present hour, Be thankful for the past, And neither fear nor wish Th' approaches of the last.
Vain, weak-built isthmus, which dost proudly rise Up between two eternities!
The present is an eternal now.
Stones of small worth may lie unseen by day, But night itself does the rich gem betray.
There have been fewer friends on earth than kings.
I would not fear nor wish my fate, but boldly say each night, to-morrow let my sun his beams display, or in clouds hide them; I have lived today.
Curs'd be that wretch (Death's factor sure) who brought Dire swords into the peaceful world, and taught Smiths (who before could only make The spade, the plough-share, and the rake) Arts, in most cruel wise Man's left to epitomize!
May I a small house and large garden have; And a few friends, And many books, both true.
The world's a scene of changes.
Begin, be bold, and venture to be wise, He who defers this work from day to day, Does on a river's bank expecting stay, Till the whole stream, which stopped him, should be gone, That runs, and as it runs, for ever will run on.
What a brave privilege is it to be free from all contentions, from all envying or being envied, from receiving or paying all kinds of ceremonies!
Who lets slip fortune, her shall never find: Occasion once past by, is bald behind.
Nothing in Nature's sober found, But an eternal Health goes round. Fill up the Bowl then, fill it high-- Fill all the Glasses there; for why Should every Creature Drink but I? Why, Man of Morals, tell me why?
Poets by Death are conquer'd but the wit Of poets triumphs over it.
Man is too near all kinds of beasts,--a fawning dog, a roaring lion, a thieving fox, a robbing wolf, a dissembling crocodile, a treacherous decoy, and a rapacious vulture.
Come, my best friends, my best books, and lead me on.
Hope is the most hopeless thing of all.
Ah yet, ere I descend to the grave, May I a small house and large garden have; And a few friends, and many books, both true, both wise and both delightful too.
What shall I do to be for ever known, And make the age to come my own?
Ere I descend to th' grave, May I a small house and large garden have; And a few friends, and many books.
Banish business, banish sorrow. To the gods belongs tomorrow.