How great his theft, who robs himself! - Nathaniel Cotton

Additional quotes by Nathaniel Cotton

Hold the fleet angel fast until he bless thee.

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If solid happiness we prize,
Within our breast this jewel lies,
And they are fools who roam.
The world has nothing to bestow;
From our own selves our joys must flow,
And that dear hut, our home.

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'Tis the last act which crowns the play.

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