There Is A Sacredness In Tears

One Point Is Certain, That Truth Is One And Immutable; Until The Jurors All Agree, They Cannot All Be Right.

It's A Fair Wind That Blew Men To Ale.

There Rise Authors Now And Then, Who Seem Proof Against The Mutability Of Language, Because They Have Rooted Themselves In The Unchanging Principles Of Human Nature.

When Friends Grow Cold, And The Converse Of Intimates Languishes Into Vapid Civility And Commonplace, These Only Continue The Unaltered Countenance Of Happier Days, And Cheer Us With That True Friendship Which Never Deceived Hope, Nor Deserted Sorrow.

Nature Seems To Delight In Disappointing The Assiduities Of Art, With Which It Would Rear Legitimate Dulness To Maturity; And To Glory In The Vigour And Luxuriance Of Her Chance Productions.