Books Without The Knowledge Of Life Are

Prepare For Death, If Here At Night You Roam, And Sign Your Will Before You Sup From Home.

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.

Life Is A Pill Which None Of Us Can Bear To Swallow Without Gilding.

Every Other Enjoyment Malice May Destroy; Every Other Panegyric Envy May Withhold; But No Human Power Can Deprive The Boaster Of His Own Encomiums.

It Was His Peculiar Happiness That He Scarcely Ever Found A Stranger Whom He Did Not Leave A Friend; But It Must Likewise Be Added, That He Had Not Often A Friend Long Without Obliging Him To Become A Stranger.