The awakenings of remorse, virtuous shame and indignation, the glow of moral approbation if they do not lead to action, grow less and less vivid every time they occur, till at length the mind grows absolutely callous

Cruel Remorse! where Youth and Pleasure sport, And thoughtless Folly keeps her court,-- Crouching 'midst rosy bowers thou lurk'st unseen Slumbering the festal hours away, While Youth disports in that enchanting scene; Till on some fated day Thou with a tiger-spring dost leap upon thy prey, And tear his helpless breast, o'erwhelmed with wild dismay.

When one by one our ties are torn, and friend from friend is snatched forlorn; When man is left alone to mourn, oh! then how sweet it is to die!

When one by one our ties are torn, and friend from friend is snatched forlorn; When man is left alone to mourn, oh! then how sweet it is to die!.

The dead of midnight is the noon of thought.

We neither laugh alone, nor weep alone, why then should we pray alone?