He Who Shuts Out Truth, By The

Generosity During Life Is A Very Different Thing From Generosity In The Hour Of Death; One Proceeds From Genuine Liberality And Benevolence, The Other From Pride Or Fear.

The Object Of Punishment Is, Prevention From Evil; It Never Can Be Made Impulsive To Good.

One Thing I Certainly Never Was Made For, And That Is To Put Principles On And Off At The Dictation Of A Party, As A Lackey Changes His Livery At His Master's Command.

Both Poetry And Philosophy Are Prodigal Of Eulogy Over The Mind Which Ransoms Itself By Its Own Energy From A Captivity To Custom, Which Breaks The Common Bounds Of Empire, And Cuts A Simplon Over Mountains Of Difficulty For Its Own Purposes, Whether Of Good Or Of Evil.

The False Man Is More False To Himself Than To Any One Else. He May Despoil Others, But Himself Is The Chief Loser. The World's Scorn He Might Sometimes Forget, But The Knowledge Of His Own Perfidy Is Undying.