Party-spirit At Best Is But The Madness

There Is A Certain Majesty In Simplicity Which Is Far Above All The Quaintness Of Wit.

The Vanity Of Human Life Is Like A River, Constantly Passing Away, And Yet Constantly Coming On.

How Vast A Memory Has Love!

There Is But One Way I Know Of Conversing Safely With All Men; That Is, Not By Concealing What We Say Or Do, But By Saying Or Doing Nothing That Deserves To Be Concealed.

There Still Remains To Mortify A Wit The Many-headed Monster Of The Pit.