Sometimes Accidents Happen In Life From Which

Love, Like Fire, Cannot Subsist Without Constant Impulse; It Ceases To Live From The Moment It Ceases To Hope Or To Fear.

Fortune Cures Us Of Many Faults That Reason Could Not.

A Weak Mind Is The Only Defect Out Of Our Power To Mend.

The Distempers Of The Soul Have Their Relapses, As Many And As Dangerous As Those Of The Body; And What We Take For A Perfect Cureis Generally Either An Abatement Of The Same Disease Or The Changing Of That For Another.

No One Thinks Fortune So Blind As Those She Has Been Least Kind To.