No Man Is A Hypocrite In His

Love Is Only One Of Many Passions.

In All Evils Which Admit A Remedy, Impatience Is To Be Avoided, Because It Wastes That Time And Attention In Complaints, That, If Properly Applied Might Remove The Cause.

But To The Particular Species Of Excellence Men Are Directed, Not By An Ascendant Planet Or Predominating Humour, But By The First Book Which They Read, Some Early Conversation Which They Heard, Or Some Accident Which Excited Ardour And Emulation.

When A Friend Is Carried To His Grave, We At Once Find Excuses For Every Weakness, And Palliation Of Every Fault. We Recollect A Thousand Endearments, Which Before Glided Off Our Minds Without Impression, A Thousand Favors Unrepaid, A Thousand Duties Unperformed; And Wish, Vainly Wish, For His Return, Not So Much That We May Receive As That We May Bestow Happiness, And Recompense That Kindness Which Before We Never Understood.

I Had Done All That I Could, And No Man Is Well Pleased To Have His All Neglected, Be It Ever So Little.