Their Is No Defense Against Criticism Except

We Are Apt To Rely Upon Future Prospects, And Become Really Expensive While We Are Only Rich In Possibility. We Live Up To Our Expectations, Not To Our Possessions, And Make A Figure Proportionable To What We May Be, Not What We Are.

The Memory Is Perpetually Looking Back When We Have Nothing Present To Entertain Us. It Is Like Those Repositories In Animals That Are Filled With Food, On Which They May Ruminate When Their Present Pastures Fail.

Oh, Liberty! Thou Goddess Heavenly Bright! Profuse Of Bliss, And Pregnant With Delight! Eternal Pleasures In Thy Presence Reign, And Smiling Plenty Leads Thy Wanton Train.

Wit Is The Fetching Of Congruity Out Of Incongruity.

There Is Not Any Present Moment That Is Unconnected With Some Future One. The Life Of Every Man Is A Continued Chain Of Incidents, Each Link Of Which Hangs Upon The Former. The Transition From Cause To Effect, From Event To Event, Is Often Carried On By Secret Steps, Which Our Foresight Cannot Divine, And Our Sagacity Is Unable To Trace. Evil May At Some Future Period Bring Forth Good; And Good May Bring Forth Evil, Both Equally Unexpected.