Truth From His Lips Prevailed With Double

In All The Silent Manliness Of Grief.

They Please, Are Pleas'd, They Give To Get Esteem Till, Seeming Blest, They Grow To What They Seem.

As For Murmurs, Mother, We Grumble A Little Now And Then, To Be Sure; But There's No Love Lost Between Us.

All Is Not Gold That Glitters, Pleasure Seems Sweet, But Proves A Glass Of Bitters

Life Has Been Compared To A Race, But The Allusion Improves By Observing, That The Most Swift Are Usually The Least Manageable And The Most Likely To Stray From The Course. Great Abilities Have Always Been Less Serviceable To The Possessors Than Moderate Ones.