Thou Source Of All My Bliss And

The Soul May Be Compared To A Field Of Battle, Where The Armies Are Ready Every Moment To Encounter. Not A Single Vice But Has A More Powerful Opponent, And Not One Virtue But May Be Overborne By A Combination Of Vices.

You Will Always Find That Those Are Most Apt To Boast Of National Merit, Who Have Little Or Not Merit Of Their Own To Depend On . . .

Life At The Greatest And Best Is But A Froward Child, That Must Be Humored And Coaxed A Little Till It Falls Asleep, And Then All The Care Is Over.

Fear Guides More To Their Duty Than Gratitude; For One Man Who Is Virtuous From The Love Of Virtue, From The Obligation He Thinks He Lies Under To The Giver Of All, There Are Ten Thousand Who Are Good Only From Their Apprehension Of Punishment.

In A Polite Age Almost Every Person Becomes A Reader, And Receives More Instruction From The Press Than The Pulpit.