There Is No Virtue So Truly Great

Riches Are Apt To Betray A Man Into Arrogance.

Temperance Gives Nature Her Full Play, And Enables Her To Exert Herself In All Her Force And Vigor.

That Fine Part Of Our Construction, The Eye, Seems As Much The Receptacle And Seat Of Our Passions As The Mind Itself; And At Least It Is The Outward Portal To Introduce Them To The House Within, Or Rather The Common Thoroughfare To Let Our Affections Pass In And Out.

Love Is A Second Life.

Men Of Warm Imaginations And Towering Thoughts Are Apt To Overlook The Goods Of Fortune Which Are Near Them, For Something That Glitters In The Sight At A Distance; To Neglect Solid And Substantial Happiness For What Is Showy And Superficial; And To Contemn That Good Which Lies Within Their Reach, For That Which They Are Not Capable Of Attaining. Hope Calculates Its Schemes For A Long And Durable Life; Presses Forward To Imaginary Points Of Bliss; Grasps At Impossibilities; And Consequently Very Often Ensnares Men Into Beggary, Ruin, And Dishonour.