It Is Usual For A Man Who

T Is The Divinity That Stirs Within Us.

When I Read The Epitaphs Of The Beautiful, Every Inordinate Desire Goes Out; When I Meet With The Grief Of Parents Upon A Tombstone, My Heart Melts With Compassion; When I See The Tomb Of The Parents Themselves, I Consider The Vanity Of Grieving For Those Whom We Must Quickly Follow: When I See Kings Lying By Those Who Deposed Them, When I Consider Rival Wits Placed Side By Side, Or The Holy Men That Divided The World With Their Contests And Disputes, I Reflect With Sorrow And Astonishment On The Little Competitions, Factions, And Debates Of Mankind.

Plutarch Has Written An Essay On The Benefits Which A Man May Receive From His Enemies; And Among The Good Fruits Of Enmity, Mentions This In Particular, That By The Reproaches Which It Casts Upon Us, We See The Worst Side Of Ourselves.

No Oppression Is So Heavy Or Lasting As That Which Is Inflicted By The Perversion And Exorbitance Of Legal Authority.

There Is No Kind Of False Wit Which Has Been So Recommended By The Practice Of All Ages, As That Which Consists In A Jingle Of Words, And Is Comprehended Under The General Name Of Punning.