Let Grace Conduct Thee To The Paths

Immortal Life Is Something To Be Earned, By Slow Self-conquest, Comradeship With Pain, And Patient Seeking After Higher Truths.

Of All Vices Take Heed Of Drunkenness; Other Vices Are But Fruits Of Disordered Affections--this Disorders, Nay, Banishes Reason; Other Vices But Impair The Soul--this Demolishes Her Two Chief Faculties, The Understanding And The Will; Other Vices Make Their Own Way--this Makes Way For All Vices; He That Is A Drunkard Is Qualified For All Vice.

The Light Of The Understanding, Humility Kindleth And Pride Covereth.

Wrinkle Not Thy Face With Too Much Laughter, Lest Thou Become Ridiculous; Neither Wanton Thy Heart With Too Much Mirth, Lest Thou Become Vain: The Suburbs Of Folly Is Vain Mirth, And Profuseness Of Laughter Is The City Of Fools.

Alas! Fond Child, How Are Thy Thoughts Beguil'd To Hope For Honey From A Nest Of Wasps? Thou May'st As Well Go Seek For Ease In Hell, Or Sprightly Nectar From The Mouths Of Asps. The World's A Hive, From Whence Thou Canst Derive No Good, But What Thy Soul's Vexation Brings: But Case Thou Meet Some Petty-petty Sweet, Each Drop Is Guarded With A Thousand Stings.