When a man has not a good reason for doing a thing, he has one good reason for letting it alone.

Vacant heart and hand and eye, / Easy live and quiet die.

Love is heaven and heaven is love.

Death— the last sleep? No, it is the final awakening.

Heap on more wood! - the wind is chill; / But let it whistle as it will, / We'll keep our Christmas merry still.

Nothing is more completely the child of art than a garden.

Like the Highlandman's gun, she wants stock, lock, and barrel to put her into repair.

On Christmas eve the bells were rung; / On Christmas eve the mass was sung; / That only night in all the year, / Saw the stole priest the chalice rear.

To be always intending to live a new life, but never find time to set about it—this is as if a man should put off eating and drinking from one day to another till he be starved and destroyed.

For ne'er was flattery lost on poet's ear; / A simple race! they waste their toil / For the vain tribute of a smile.