It Is The Lot Of Man But

I Wish Thee As Much Pleasure In The Reading, As I Had In The Writing.

Put Off Thy Cares With Thy Clothes; So Shall Thy Rest Strengthen Thy Labour, And So Shall Thy Labour Sweeten Thy Rest.

Temper Your Enjoyments With Prudence, Lest There Be Written On Your Heart That Fearful Word 'satiety.'

The World's An Inn; And I Her Guest.

The Birds Of The Air Die To Sustain Thee; The Beasts Of The Field Die To Nourish Thee; The Fishes Of The Sea Die To Feed Thee. Our Stomachs Are Their Common Sepulchre. Good God! With How Many Deaths Are Our Poor Lives Patched Up! How Full Of Death Is The Life Of Momentary Man!