God Has Made No One Absolute.

Praise Has Different Effects, According To The Mind It Meets With; It Makes A Wise Man Modest, But A Fool More Arrogant, Turning His Weak Brain Giddy.

Irresolution Is A Worse Vice Than Rashness. He That Shoots Best May Sometimes Miss The Mark; But He That Shoots Not At All Can Never Hit It. Irresolution Loosens All The Joints Of A State; Like An Ague, It Shakes Not This Nor That Limb, But All The Body Is At Once In A Fit. The Irresolute Man Is Lifted From One Place To Another; So Hatcheth Nothing, But Addles All His Actions.

He That Despairs Degrades The Deity, And Seems To Intimate That He Is Insufficient, Or Not Just To His Word; And In Vain Hath Read The Scriptures, The World, And Man.

When I But Hear Her Sing, I Fare Like One That Raised, Holds His Ear To Some Bright Star In The Supremest Round; Through Which, Besides The Light That's Seen There May Be Heard, From Heaven Within, The Rests Of Anthems, That The Angels Sound.

A Sentence Well Couched Takes Both The Sense And Understanding. I Love Not Those Cart-rope Speeches That Are Longer Than The Memory Of Man Can Fathom.