Sweet Are The Slumbers Of The Virtuous

Why Will Any Man Be So Impertinently Officious As To Tell Me All Prospect Of A Future State Is Only Fancy And Delusion? Is There Any Merit In Being The Messenger Of Ill News. If It Is A Dream, Let Me Enjoy It, Since It Makes Me Both The Happier And Better Man.

With What Astonishment And Veneration May We Look Into Our Own Souls, Where There Are Such Hidden Stores Of Virtue And Knowledge, Such Inexhaustible Sources Of Perfection. We Know Not Yet What We Shall Be, Nor Will It Ever Enter Into The Heart To Conceive The Glory That Will Be Always In Reserve For It.

There Is More Of Turn Than Of Truth In A Saying Of Seneca, "that Drunkenness Does Not Produce But Discover Faults." Common Experience Teaches The Contrary. Wine Throws A Man Out Of Himself, And Infuses Dualities Into The Mind Which She Is A Stranger To In Her Sober Moments.

Pride Goes Before Destruction And A Haughty Spirit Before A Fall.

We Find That Good And Evil Happen Alike To All Men On This Side Of The Grave; And As The Principle Design Of Tragedy Is To Raise Commiseration And Terror In The Minds Of The Audience, We Shall Defeat This Great End, If We Always Make Virtue And Innocence Happy And Successful.