There Is Nothing Which Has Yet Been

Much Mischief Is Done In The World With Very Little Interest Or Design.

That Friendship May Be At Once Fond And Lasting, There Must Not Only Be Equal Virtue On Each Part, But Virtue Of The Same Kind; Not Only The Same End Must Be Proposed, But The Same Means Must Be Approved By Both.

Disease Generally Begins That Equality Which Death Completes; The Distinctions Which Set One Man So Much Above Another Are Very Little Perceived In The Gloom Of A Sick Chamber, Where It Will Be Vain To Expect Entertainment From The Gay, Or Instruction From The Wise; Where All Human Glory Is Obliterated, The Wit Is Clouded, The Reasoner Perplexed, And The Hero Subdued; Where The Highest And Brightest Of Mortal Beings Finds Nothing Left Him But The Consciousness Of Innocence.

When A Man Knows He Is To Be Hanged In A Fortnight, It Concentrates His Mind Wonderfully.

He That Is Warm For Truth, And Fearless In Its Defense, Performs One Of The Duties Of A Good Man; He Strenghtens His Own Conviction, And Guards Others From Delusion; But Steadiness Of Belief, And Boldness Of Profession, Are Yet Only Part Of The Form Of Godliness.