Because the good old ruleSufficeth them, the simple plan,That they should take, who have the power,And they should keep who can.
A poet who has not produced a good poem before he is twenty-five, we may conclude cannot, and never will do so.
After ten months' melancholy,/ Became a good and honest man.
Plain living and high thinking are no more:The homely beauty of the good old causeIs gone.
The best portion of a good man's life is his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love.
The good die first, And they whose hearts are dry as summer dust Burn to the socket