Folly Is Like The Growth Of Weeds,

I Have Somewhere Read That Conscience Not Only Sits As Witness And Judge Within Our Bosoms, But Also Forms The Prison Of Punishment.

The Cloudy Weather Melts At Length Into Beauty, And The Brightest Smiles Of The Heart Are Born Of Its Tears.

Duty Itself Is Supreme Delight When Love Is The Inducement And Labor. By Such A Principle The Ignorant Are Enlightened, The Hard-hearted Softened, The Disobedient Reformed, And The Faithful Encouraged.

Pretension Almost Always Overdoes The Original, And Hence Exposes Itself.

Unless We Find Repose Within Ourselves, It Is Vain To Seek It Elsewhere.