George Sewell
Fear is the tax that conscience pays to guilt.Collection: Fear
The coward sneaks to death; the brave live on.
When all the blandishments of life are gone, The coward sneaks to death, the brave live on.Collection: Suicide
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.Collection: Sleep