He Is A Very Humble Man, That

A Reputation Once Broken May Possibly Be Repaired, But The World Will Always Keep Their Eyes On The Spot Where The Crack Was.

How Endless Is That Volume Which God Hath Written Of The World! Every Creature Is A Letter, Every Day A New Page.

The Idle Man Is The Devil's Cushion, On Which He Taketh His Free Ease: Who, As He Is Uncapable Of Any Good, So He Is Fitly Disposed For All Evil Motions.

Society Is The Atmosphere Of Souls; And We Necessarily Imbibe From It Something Which Is Either Infectious Or Healthful.

Virtues Go Ever In Troops; They Go So Thick, That Sometimes Some Are Hid In The Crowd; Which Yet Are, But Appear Not.