The Hours Of A Wise Man Are

The First Race Of Mankind Used To Dispute, As Our Ordinary People Do Now-a-days, In A Kind Of Wild Logic, Uncultivated By Rule Of Art.

Most Of Our Fellow-subjects Are Guided Either By The Prejudice Of Education Or By A Deference To The Judgment Of Those Who Perhaps In Their Own Hearts Disapprove The Opinions Which They Industriously Spread Among The Multitude.

Oh! Think What Anxious Moments Pass Between The Birth Of Plots, And Their Last Fatal Periods, Oh! 'tis A Dreadful Interval Of Time, Filled Up With Horror All, And Big With Death!

There Is Nothing That Makes Its Way More Directly Into The Soul Than Beauty.

It Is Of Unspeakable Advantage To Possess Our Minds With An Habitual Good Intention, And To Aim All Our Thoughts, Words, And Actions At Some Laudable End.