Satan Trembles When He Sees The Weakest

There Is In Souls A Sympathy With Sounds: And As The Mind Is Pitch'd The Ear Is Pleased With Melting Airs, Or Martial, Brisk Or Grave; Some Chord In Unison With What We Hear Is Touch'd Within Us, And The Heart Replies.

The Rich Are Too Indolent, The Poor Too Weak, To Bear The Insupportable Fatigue Of Thinking.

A Noisy Man Is Always In The Right.

A Man Renowned For Repartee Will Seldom Scruple To Make Free With Friendship's Finest Feeling, Will Thrust A Dagger At Your Breast, And Say He Wounded You In Jest, By Way Of Balm For Healing.

Stamps God's Own Name Upon A Lie Just Made, To Turn A Penny In The Way Of Trade.