There Is Something So Different In Venice

When I Run Over The Frightful Catalogue Of My Sins, I Cannot Believe That I Am The Same Creature Whose Thoughts Were Once Filled With Sublime And Transcendent Visions Of The Beauty And The Majesty Of Goodness. But It Is Even So; The Fallen Angel Becomes A Malignant Devil.

Polluted By Crimes, And Torn By The Bitterest Remorse, Where Can I Find Rest But In Death?

Thus Strangely Are Our Souls Constructed, And By Slight Ligaments Are We Bound To Prosperity And Ruin.

Standing Armies Can Never Consist Of Resolute Robust Men; They May Be Well-disciplined Machines, But They Will Seldom Contain Men Under The Influence Of Strong Passions, Or With Very Vigorous Faculties.

Till Society Is Very Differently Constituted, Parents, I Fear, Will Still Insist On Being Obeyed Because They Will Be Obeyed, And Constantly Endeavor To Settle That Power On A Divine Right Which Will Not Bear The Investigation Of Reason.