Nothing can cover his high fame but heaven;
No pyramids set off his memories,
But the eternal substance of his greatness,—­
To which I leave him.
The False One, Act ii.  Sc. 1.  BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.

Greatness on goodness loves to slide, not stand,
And leaves, for fortune’s ice, vertue’s firm land.
Turkish History.  Under a portrait of Mustapha I.  R. KNOLLES.

                           Such souls,
  Whose sudden visitations daze the world,
  Vanish like lightning, but they leave behind
  A voice that in the distance far away
  Wakens the slumbering ages.
Philip Van Artevelde, Pt.  I. Act i.  Sc. 7.  SIR H. TAYLOR.

GRIEF.

Every one can master grief, but he that has it. Much Ado about Nothing, Act iii.  Sc. 2.  SHAKESPEARE.

                    The grief that does not speak
  Whispers the o’er-fraught heart and bids it break.
Macbeth, Act iv.  Sc. 3.  SHAKESPEARE.

  No words suffice the secret soul to show,
  For truth denies all eloquence to woe.
The Corsair, Canto III.  LORD BYRON.

  No greater grief than to remember days
  Of joy when misery is at hand.
Inferno, Canto V.  DANTE.

  I am not mad;—­I would to heaven I were! 
  For then, ’tis like I should forget myself;
  O, if I could, what grief I should forget!
King John, Act iii.  Sc. 4.  SHAKESPEARE.

  Not to the grave, not to the grave, my soul,
      Follow thy friend beloved! 
      But in the lonely hour,
      But in the evening walk,
  Think that he accompanies thy solitude;
      Think that he holds with thee
      Mysterious intercourse: 
  And though remembrance wake a tear,
      There will be joy in grief.
The Dead Friend.  R. SOUTHEY. 
HABIT.

  Habit with him was all the test of truth;
  “It must be right:  I’ve done it from my youth.”
The Borough, Letter III.  G. CRABBE.

  How use doth breed a habit in a man! 
  This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods,
  I better brook than flourishing peopled town.
Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act v.  Sc. 4.  SHAKESPEARE.

  Hackneyed in business, wearied at that oar,
  Which thousands, once fast chained to, quit no more.
Retirement.  W. COWPER.

  Small habits, well pursued betimes,
  May reach the dignity of crimes.
Florio, Pt.  I.  HANNAH MORE.

  Ill habits gather by unseen degrees,
  As brooks make rivers, rivers run to seas.
Metamorphoses, Bk.  XV.  OVID. Trans. of DRYDEN.

HAIR.

  Those curious locks so aptly twined,
  Whose every hair a soul doth bind.
To A.L.  Persuasions to Love.  T. CAREW.

  Beware of her fair hair, for she excels
  All women in the magic of her locks;
  And when she winds them round a young man’s neck,
  She will not ever set him free again.
Faust:  Sc.  Walpurgis Night.  GOETHE. Trans. of SHELLEY.