The Hopes Of Zeal Are Not Wholly

Every Man Naturally Persuades Himself That He Can Keep His Resolutions, Nor Is He Convinced Of His Imbecility But By Length Of Time And Frequency Of Experiment.

The Balls Of Sight Are So Formed, That One Man's Eyes Are Spectacles To Another, To Read His Heart With.

Yet Reason Frowns In War's Unequal Game, Where Wasted Nations Raise A Single Name; And Mortgag'd States Their Grandsire's Wreaths Regret, From Age To Age In Everlasting Debt; Wreaths Which At Last The Dear-bought Right Convey To Rust On Medals, Or On Stones Decay.

A Man May Write At Any Time, If He Will Set Himself Doggedly To It.

As I Know More Of Mankind I Expect Less Of Them, And Am Ready Now To Call A Man A Good Man Upon Easier Terms Than I Was Formerly.