And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.

The evil that men do lives after them the good is oft interred with their bones.

An overflow of good converts to bad.

Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.

How far that little candle throws its beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world.