Action, So To Speak, Is The Genius

How Shocking Must Thy Summons Be, O Death, To Him That Is At Ease In His Possessions! Who, Counting On Long Years Of Pleasure Here, Is Quite Unfurnished For The World To Come.

Beauty! Thou Pretty Plaything! Dear Deceit, That Steals So Softly O'er The Stripling's Heart, And Gives It A New Pulse Unknown Before!

Industry Is Not Only The Instrument Of Improvement, But The Foundation Of Pleasure. He Who Is A Stranger To It May Possess, But Cannot Enjoy, For It Is Labor Only Which Gives Relish To Pleasure. It Is The Indispensable Condition Of Possessing A Sound Mind In A Sound Body, And It Is The Appointed Vehicle Of Every Good To Man.

Friendship! Mysterious Cement Of The Soul, Sweet'ner Of Life, And Solder Of Society.

How Blunt Are All The Arrows Of Thy Quiver In Comparison With Those Of Guilt.