I Never Yet Heard Man Or Woman

Our Griefs, As Well As Our Joys, Owe Their Strongest Colors To Our Imaginations. There Is Nothing So Grievous To Be Borne That Pondering Upon It Will Not Make It Heavier; And There Is No Pleasure So Vivid That The Animation Of Fancy Cannot Liven It.

Life Is A Warfare; And He Who Easily Desponds Deserts A Double Duty--he Betrays The Noblest Property Of Man, Which Is Dauntless Resolution; And He Rejects The Providence Of That All-gracious Being Who Guides And Rules The Universe.

However You Disguise Slavery, It Is Slavery Still. Its Chains, Though Wreathed With Roses, Not Only Fasten On The Body But Rivet On The Mind.

Virtue, Without The Graces, Is Like A Rich Diamond Unpolished--it Hardly Looks Better Than A Common Pebble; But When The Hand Of The Master Rubs Off The Roughness, And Forms The Sides Into A Thousand Brilliant Surfaces, It Is Then That We Acknowledge Its Worth, Admire Its Beauty, And Long To Wear It In Our Bosoms.

That Grief Is The Most Durable Which Flows Inward, And Buries Its Streams With Its Fountain, In The Depths Of The Heart.