Gardens Were Before Gardeners, And But Some

I Believe The World Grows Near Its End, Yet Is Neither Old Nor Decayed, Nor Will Ever Perish Upon The Ruins Of Its Own Principles.

Were The Happiness Of The Next World Is As Closely Apprehended As The Felicities Of This, It Were A Martyrdom To Live.

It Is We That Are Blind, Not Fortune; Because Our Eye Is Too Dim To Discern The Mystery Of Her Effects, We Foolishly Paint Her Blind, And Hoodwink The Providence Of The Almighty.

I Am The Happiest Man Alive. I Have That In Me That Can Convert Poverty To Riches, Adversity To Prosperity, And I Am More Invulnerable Than Archilles; Fortune Hath Not One Place To Hit Me.

We Do But Learn To-day What Our Better Advanced Judgements Will Unteach Us Tomorrow.