Give unto me, made lowly wise,/ The spirit of self-sacrifice.

A perfect woman, nobly planned,To warn, to comfort, and command;And yet a Spirit still, and brightWith something of angelic light.

Undoubtedly a man is to labor to better his condition, but first to better himself

Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge; it is the impassioned expression which is in the countenance of all Science.

There is a luxury in self-dispraise; And inward self-disparagement affords To meditative spleen a grateful feast.

In ourselves our safety must be sought.
By our own right hand it must be wrought.