Nature Confesses That She Has Bestowed On

For He, Who Gave This Vast Machine To Roll, Breathed Life In Then, In Us A Reasoning Soul; That Kindred Feelings Might Our State Improve, And Mutual Wants Conduct To Mutual Love.

Poverty Is Bitter, But It Has No Harder Pang Than That It Makes Men Ridiculous.

An Undying Hatred, And A Wound Never To Be Healed.

We Are All Easily Taught To Imitate What Is Base And Depraved. [lat., Dociles Imitandis Turpibus Ac Pravis Omnes Sumus.]

The Traveler Without Money Will Sing Before The Robber. [lat., Cantabit Vacuus Coram Latrone Viator.]