Amidst The Soft Variety I'm Lost.

There Is More Of Turn Than Of Truth In A Saying Of Seneca, "that Drunkenness Does Not Produce But Discover Faults." Common Experience Teaches The Contrary. Wine Throws A Man Out Of Himself, And Infuses Dualities Into The Mind Which She Is A Stranger To In Her Sober Moments.

True Religion And Virtue Give A Cheerful And Happy Turn To The Mind, Admit Of All True Pleasures, And Even Procure For Us The Highest.

Thus I Live In The World Rather As A Spectator Of Mankind Than As One Of The Species.

The Fashionable World Is Grown Free And Easie; Our Manners Sit More Loose Upon Us: Nothing Is So Modish As An Agreeable Negligence. In A Word, Good Breeding Shows It Self Most, Where To An Ordinary Eye It Appears The Least.

Is There Not Some Chosen Curse, Some Hidden Thunder In The Stores Of Heaven, Red With Uncommon Wrath, To Blast The Man Who Owes His Greatness To His Country's Ruin!