Edward Young

A soul without reflection, like a pile Without inhabitant, to ruin runs.

Less base the fear of death than fear of life.

By night an atheist half believes a God.

Men may live fools, but fools they cannot die.

A Christian is the highest style of man.

’Tis impious in a good man to be sad

A God all mercy is a God unjust.

Man wants little, nor that little long.

Wishing, of all employments, is the worst.

And feels a thousand deaths in fearing one.

Man makes a death which Nature never made.

The knell, the shroud, the mattock, and the grave, The deep damp vault, the darkness and the worm.

... life is most enjoy'd when courted least, most worth, when disesteemed,...

Heaven’s Sovereign saves all beings but himself That hideous sight,—a naked human heart.

Lovely in death the beauteous ruin lay; And if in death still lovely, lovelier there; Far lovelier! pity swells the tide of love.

Beautiful as sweet! And young as beautiful! and soft as young! And gay as soft! and innocent as gay.

Woes cluster. Rare are solitary woes; They love a train, they tread each other’s heel.

Virtue alone has majesty in death.

A death-bed ’s a detector of the heart.

The chamber where the good man meets his fate Is privileg’d beyond the common walk Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of heaven.

How blessings brighten as they take their flight!

Friendship's the wine of life; but friendship new (Not such was his) is neither strong nor pure.

A friend is worth all hazards we can run.

Thoughts shut up want air, And spoil, like bales unopen’d to the sun.