There Is A Frightful Interval Between The

He That Embarks On The Voyage Of Life Will Always Wish To Advance Rather By The Impulse Of The Wind Than The Strokes Of The Oar; And Many Fold In Their Passage; While They Lie Waiting For The Gale.

It Is As Bad As Bad Can Be: It Is Ill-fed, Ill-killed, Ill-kept, And Ill-drest.

Piety Practiced In Solitude, Like The Flower That Blooms In The Desert, May Give Its Fragrance To The Winds Of Heaven, And Delight Those Unbodied Spirits That Survey The Works Of God And The Actions Of Men; But It Bestows No Assistance Upon Earthly Beings, And However Free From Taints Of Impurity, Yet Wants The Sacred Splendor Of Beneficence.

The Dependant Who Cultivates Delicacy In Himself Very Little Consults His Own Tranquillity.

If I Had No Duties, And No Reference To Futurity, I Would Spend My Life In Driving Briskly In A Post-chaise With A Pretty Woman.