I Have Sent For You That You

Wine Displays Every Little Spot Of The Soul In Its Utmost Deformity.

It Must Be A Prospect Pleasing To God Himself To See His Creation Forever Beautifying In His Eyes, And Drawing Nearer Him By Greater Degrees Of Resemblance.

Nothing Lies On Our Hands With Such Uneasiness As Time. Wretched And Thoughtless Creatures! In The Only Place Where Covetousness Were A Virtue We Turn Prodigals.

The Sense Of Honour Is Of So Fine And Delicate A Nature, That It Is Only To Be Met With In Minds Which Are Naturally Noble, Or In Such As Have Been Cultivated By Good Examples, Or A Refined Education.

A Just And Reasonable Modesty Does Not Only Recommend Eloquence, But Sets Off Every Great Talent Which A Man Can Be Possessed Of.