Spur Not An Unbroken Horse; Put Not

Every Hour Has Its End.

It Is Only When I Dally With What I Am About, Look Back And Aside, Instead Of Keeping My Eyes Straight Forward, That I Feel These Cold Sinkings Of The Heart.

I Did Not Myself Set A High Estimation On Wealth, And Had The Affectation Of Most Young Men Of Lively Imagination, Who Suppose That They Can Better Dispense With The Possession Of Money, Than Resign Their Time And Faculties To The Labour Necessary To Acquire It.

Perhaps The Perusal Of Such Works May, Without Injustice, Be Compared With The Use Of Opiates, Baneful, When Habitually And Constantly Resorted To, But Of Most Blessed Power In Those Moments Of Pain And Of Langour, When The Whole Head Is Sore, And The Whole Heart Sick. If Those Who Rail Indiscriminately At This Species Of Composition, Were To Consider The Quantity Of Actual Pleasure It Produces, And The Much Greater Proportion Of Real Sorrow And Distress Which It Alleviates, Their Philanthropy Ought To Moderate Their Critical Pride, Or Religious Intolerance.

A Thousand Fearful Images And Dire Suggestions Glance Along The Mind When It Is Moody And Discontented With Itself. Command Them To Stand And Show Themselves, And You Presently Assert The Power Of Reason Over Imagination.