Modesty Is Bred Of Self-reverence. Fine Manners

The Fable Runs That The Gods Mix Our Pains And Pleasure In One Cup, And Thus Mingle For Us The Adulterate Immortality Which We Alone Are Permitted Here To Enjoy. Voluptuous Raptures, Could We Prolong These At Pleasure, Would Dissipate And Dissolve Us. A Sip Is The Most That Mortals Are Permitted From Any Goblet Of Delight.

Cities With All Their Advantages Have Something Hostile To Liberal Learning, The Seductions Are So Subtle And Accost The Senses So Openly On All Sides.

A Work Of Real Merit Finds Favor At Last.

Our Favorites Are Few; Since Only What Rises From The Heart Reaches It, Being Caught And Carried On The Tongues Of Men Wheresoever Love And Letters Journey.

Books Are The Most Mannerly Of Companions, Accessible At All Times, In All Moods, Frankly Declaring The Author's Mind, Without Offense.