“Fierce for the right, he bore his part
In strife with many a valiant foe;
But Laughter winged his polished dart,
And kindness tempered every blow.”

“Like a young eagle who has lent his plume
To fledge the shaft by which he meets his doom,
See their own feathers pluck'd to wing the dart
Which rank corruption destines for their heart.”

“Thy skirts indeed the foe may part,
Thy robe be pierced with sword and dart,
They shall not touch thy noble heart,
Carolina!”

“His many years had reduced and polished him the way water smooths and polishes a stone or generations of men polish a proverb.”

“He is happy, whose circumstances suit his temper; but he is more excellent, who can suit his temper to any circumstances.”

“Lay the proud usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in every foe!
Liberty's in every blow—
Let us do or die!”

“Atlas' grandson obeys his sire's words and hastily thereupon binds the winged sandals on to his ankles and with his wide hat covers his locks and tempers the stars. Then he thrusts the wand in his right hand; with this he was wont to banish sweet slumber or recall it, with this to enter black Tartarus and give life to bloodless phantoms. Down he leapt and shivered as the thin air received him. No pause; he takes swift and lofty flight through the void and traces a vast arc across the clouds.”
Paret Atlantiades dictis genitoris et inde summa pedum propere plantaribus inligat alis obnubitque comas et temperat astra galero. tum dextrae uirgam inseruit, qua pellere dulces aut suadere iterum somnos, qua nigra subire Tartara et exangues animare adsueuerat umbras. desiluit, tenuique exceptus inhorruit aura. nec mora, sublimes raptim per inane volatus carpit et ingenti designat nubila gyro.

“A gaudy dress and gentle air May slightly touch the heart;
But it's innocence and modesty
that polished the dart.”

“He that blows the coals in quarrels that he has nothing to do with, has no right to complain if the sparks fly in his face. ”

“Like as the wind, stopped by some wood or hill,
Grows strong and fierce, tears boughs and trees in twain,
But with mild blasts, more temperate, gentle, still,
Blows through the ample field or spacious plain;
Against the rocks as sea-waves murmur shrill,
But silent pass amid the open main:
Rinaldo so, when none his force withstood,
Assuaged his fury, calmed his angry mood.”