Many Are Those Who Can Argue; Few

Health, Longevity, Beauty, Are Other Names For Personal Purity; And Temperance Is The Regimen For All.

The Fable Runs That The Gods Mix Our Pains And Pleasure In One Cup, And Thus Mingle For Us The Adulterate Immortality Which We Alone Are Permitted Here To Enjoy. Voluptuous Raptures, Could We Prolong These At Pleasure, Would Dissipate And Dissolve Us. A Sip Is The Most That Mortals Are Permitted From Any Goblet Of Delight.

Our Friends Interpret The World And Ourselves To Us, If We Take Them Tenderly And Truly.

One Does Not See His Thought Distinctly Till It Is Reflected In The Image Of Another's.

Evil Is Retributive: Every Trespass Slips Fetters On The Will, Holds The Soul In Durance Till Contrition And Repentance Restore It To Liberty.