Isaac Bickerstaffe Quotes

Fine feathers, they say, make fine birds.

How happy is the sailor's life, from coast to coast to roam; in every port he finds a wife, in every land a home.

Hope! thou nurse of young desire.

But if I'm content with a little, Enough is as good as a feast.

Young fellows will be young fellows.

Tis a sure sign work goes on merrily, when folks sing at it.

The greatness that would make us grave, Is but an empty thing. What more than mirth would mortals have? The cheerful man's a king.