Who Dies In Youth And Vigour, Dies

The Mouse That Always Trusts To One Poor Hole Can Never Be A Mouse Of Any Soul.

What Riches Give Us Let Us Then Inquire: Meat, Fire, And Clothes. What More? Meat, Clothes, And Fire. Is This Too Little?

Hope Springs Eternal In The Human Breast: Man Never Is, But Always To Be Blest.

All Chance, Direction, Which Thou Canst Not See

Virtue May Choose The High Or Low Degree, 'tis Just Alike To Virtue, And To Me; Dwell In A Monk, Or Light Upon A King, She's Still The Same Belov'd, Contented Thing.