Men Are But Children Of A Larger

Silence In Times Of Suffering Is The Best.

Pleasure Never Comes Sincere To Man; But Lent By Heaven Upon Hard Usury.

War Seldom Enters But Where Wealth Allures.

How Happy The Lover, How Easy His Chain, How Pleasing His Pain, How Sweet To Discover He Sighs Not In Vain.

Farewell, Too Little, And Too Lately Known, Whom I Began To Think And Call My Own.