To what gulfs

A single deviation from the track

Of human duties leads even those who claim
The homage of mankind as their born due,
And find it, till they forfeit it themselves.

Byron: Sardanapalus.

How guilt, once harbor'd in the conscious breast,
Intimidates the brave, degrades the great!

Dr. Johnson: Irene.

Guilt is the source of sorrow! 'tis the fiend,
Th' avenging fiend, that follows us behind,
With whips and stings.

Habit; see Custom.

Nicholas Rowe: The Fair Penitent.

My very chains and I grew friends,
So much a long communion tends
To make us what we are; even I
Regain'd my freedom with a sigh.

Byron: Prisoner of Chillon.

Ill habits gather by unseen degrees,

As brooks make rivers, rivers run to seas.

Dryden: Ovid's Metamorphoses.

Happiness; see Joy, Mirth, and Pleasure.

To be good is to be happy-Angels

Are happier than mankind, because they're better.
Nicholas Rowe: The Fair Penitent.

Fix'd to no spot is happiness sincere,

'Tis nowhere to be found, or everywhere.

Pope: Essay on Man.

Condition, circumstance, is not the thing,
Bliss is the same in subject or in king.

Pope: Essay on Man.

The spider's most attenuated thread
Is cord, is cable, to man's tender tie

On earthly bliss; it breaks at every breeze.

Young: Night Thoughts.

Domestic happiness, thou only bliss

Of Paradise that hast survived the Fall!

All who joy would win

Cowper: Task.

Must share it Happiness was born a twin.

Byron: Don Juan.

And there is even a happiness

That makes the heart afraid.

Hood: Ode to Melancholy.

If solid happiness we prize,

Within our breast this jewel lies,

And they are fools who roam;

The world hath nothing to bestow.

From our own selves our bliss must flow,

And that dear hut, our home.

Cotton: Fireside.

Know then this truth, (enough for man to know,)

Virtue alone is happiness below.

Pope: Essay on Man.

The highest hills are miles below the sky,

And so far is the lightest heart below
True happiness.

Bailey: Festus.

'Tis heaven alone that is given away, "Tis only God may be had for the asking; We are happy now because God wills it.

Lowell: June.

They live too long who happiness outlive;
For life and death are things indifferent;
Each to be chose, as either brings content.

Hatred.

Dryden.

To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts, When, I am sure, you hate me with your hearts. Shakespeare: Midsummer Night's Dream.

Never can true reconcilement grow

Where wounds of deadly hate have pierc'd so deep.

Milton: Paradise Lost.

Offend her, and she knows not to forgive;
Oblige her, and she'll hate you while you live.
Pope: Moral Essays.

Disgust conceal'd

Is oft-times proof of wisdom, when the fault
Is obstinate, and cure beyond our reach.

Cowper: Task.

He, who would free from malice pass his days,
Must live obscure, and never merit praise.

They did not know how hate can burn

In hearts once changed from soft to stern;

Gay.

Nor all the false and fatal zeal

The convert of revenge can feel.

Byron: Siege of Corinth.

Fear'd, shunn'd, belied, ere youth had lost her force,

He hated men too much to feel remorse,

And thought the vice of wrath a sacred call,

To pay the injuries of some on all.

Byron: Corsair.

Health.

Th' ingredients of health and long life are
Great temperance, open air,

Easy labor, little care.

Sir Philip Sidney.

Ah! what avail the largest gifts of Heaven,
When drooping health and spirits go amiss?
How tasteless then whatever can be given!
Health is the vital principle of bliss,
And exercise of health.

Thomson: Castle of Indolence.

Nor love, nor honor, wealth, nor power,
Can give the heart a cheerful hour
When health is lost. Be timely wise;
With health all taste of pleasure flies.

Gay: Fables.

Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense,
Lie in three words, health, peace, and competence.
But health consists with temperance alone;
And peace, O Virtue! peace is all thy own.

Pope: Essay on Man.

Heart; see Love.

His heart was one of those which most enamor us,
Wax to receive, and marble to retain.

Byron: Beppo.

Heaven's sovereign saves all beings but himself,
That hideous sight, a naked human heart.
Young: Night Thoughts.

The heart is like the sky, a part of heaven,
But changes, night and day, too, like the sky:
Now o'er it clouds and thunder must be driven,
And darkness and destruction as on high;

But when it hath been scorch'd and pierc'd and
riven,

Its storms expire in water-drops; the eye

Pours forth, at last, the heart's blood turn'd to

tears.

Byron: Don Juan.

My heart is like the sleeping lake,

Which takes the hue of cloud and sky,
And only feels its surface break

When birds of passage wander by,

Who dip their wings, and upward soar,
And leave it quiet as before.

Heaven; see Death and Immortality.

Shall we serve heaven

With less respect than we do minister

To our gross selves?

N. P. Willis.

Shakespeare: Measure for Measure.