Sunday Clears Away The Rust Of The

I Will Indulge My Sorrows, And Give Way To All The Pangs And Fury Of Despair.

A Man That Has A Taste Of Music, Painting, Or Architecture, Is Like One That Has Another Sense, When Compared With Such As Have No Relish Of Those Arts

It Is Impossible For Authors To Discover Beauties In One Another's Works; They Have Eyes Only For Spots And Blemishes.

My Heart Leaps At The Trumpet's Voice.

A Man Improves More By Reading The Story Of A Person Eminent For Prudence And Virtue, Than By The Finest Rules And Precepts Of Morality.