C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917.


  • I am no courtier, no fawning dog of state,
  • To lick and kiss the hand that buffets me;
  • Nor can I smile upon my guest and praise
  • His stomach, when I know he feeds on poison,
  • And death disguised sits grinning at my table.
  • O, reputation! dearer far than life,
  • Thou precious balsam, lovely, sweet of smell,
  • Whose cordial drops once spilt by some rash hand,
  • Not all the owner’s care, nor the repenting toil
  • Of the rude spiller, ever can collect
  • To its first purity and native sweetness.
  • Vain empty words
  • Of honour, glory, and immortal fame,
  • Can these recall the spirit from its place,
  • Or re-inspire the breathless clay with life?
  • What tho’ your fame with all its thousand trumpets,
  • Sound o’er the sepulchres, will that awake
  • The sleeping dead.
  • Fear is the tax that conscience pays to guilt.

    For often vice, provoked to shame, borrows the color of a virtuous deed; thus libertines are chaste, and misers good, a coward valiant, and a priest sincere.

    Obedience is a part of religion, and an element of peace.

    Sin is a state of mind, not an outward act.

    We shall be judged, not by what we might have been, but what we have been.