Love Is Only One Of Many Passions.

For Patience, Sov'reign O'er Transmuted Ill.

It Was The Peculiar Artifice Of Habit Not To Suffer Her Power To Be Felt At First. Those Whom She Led, She Had The Address Of Appearing Only To Attend, But Was Continually Doubling Her Chains Upon Her Companions; Which Were So Slender In Themselves, And So Silently Fastened, That While The Attention Was Engaged By Other Objects, They Were Not Easily Perceived. Each Link Grew Tighter As It Had Been Longer Worn; And When By Continual Additions They Became So Heavy As To Be Felt, They Were Very Frequently Too Strong To Be Broken.

The Future Is Purchased By The Present.

Nothing Is Difficult, When Gain And Honour Unite Their Influence.

Paradise Lost Is A Book That, Once Put Down, Is Very Hard To Pick Up Again.