āAs I breathe, I hope.ā
āWere floods of tears to be unloosed In tribute to my grief, The doves of Noah ne'er had roost Nor found an olive-leaf.ā
āPrudence must not be expected from a man who is never sober.[Lat., Non est ab homine nunquam sobrio postulanda prudentia.]ā
āThere is nothing proper about what you are doing, soldier, but do try to kill me properly.ā
āNo sober person dances.ā
āA thankful heart is the greatest virtue.ā
āThe weary sun hath made a golden setAnd by the bright tract of his fiery carGives token of a goodly day to-morrow.ā
āHow far that little candle throws its beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world.ā
āEven through the hollow eyes of deathI spy life peering.ā