Of joys departed, not to return, how painful the remembrance
Quote by Robert Blair
The grave, dread thing! Men shiver when thou'rt named: Nature appalled, Shakes off her wonted...
Its visits, like those of angels, short, and far between.
Throughout the whole vegetable, sensible, and rational world, whatever makes progress towards maturity, as soon...
Action, so to speak, is the genius of nature.
Of joys departed, not to return, how painful the remembrance.
Affectation is certain deformity; by forming themselves on fantastic models, the young begin with being...
When it draws near to witching time of night.
Friendship! Mysterious cement of the soul, Sweet'ner of life, and solder of society.
How blunt are all the arrows of thy quiver in comparison with those of guilt.