Let [children] Be Able To Do All

The Most Regular And Most Perfect Soul In The World Has But Too Much To Do To Keep Itself Upright From Being Overthrown By Its Own Weakness.

Our Thoughts Are Always Elsewhere; We Are Stayed And Supported By The Hope For A Better Life, Or By The Hope That Our Children Will Turn Out Well, Or That Our Name Will Be Famous In The Future, Or That We Shall Escape The Evils Of This Life, Or That Vengeance Threatens Those Who Are The Cause Of Our Death.

Malice Sucks Up The Greatest Part Of Its Own Venom, And Poisons Itself.

We Commend A Horse For His Strength, And Sureness Of Foot, And Not For His Rich Caparisons; A Greyhound For His Share Of Heels, Not For His Fine Collar; A Hawk For Her Wing, Not For Her Jesses And Bells. Why, In Like Manner, Do We Not Value A Man For What Is Properly His Own? He Has A Great Train, A Beautiful Palace, So Much Credit, So Many Thousand Pounds A Year, And All These Are About Him, But Not In Him.

There Is As Much Difference Between Us And Ourselves As There Is Between Us And Others.