Those Who In Living Fill The Smallest

Music Is God's Gift To Man, The Only Art Of Heaven Given To Earth, The Only Art Of Earth We Take To Heaven.

The Writing Of The Wise Are The Only Riches Our Posterity Cannot Squander.

I Delight In The Diffusion Of Learning; Yet, I Must Confess It, I Am Most Gratified And Transported At Finding A Large Quantity Of It In One Place; Just As I Would Rather Have A Solid Pat Of Butter At Breakfast, Than A Splash Of Grease Upon The Table-cloth That Covers Half Of It.

There Is A Gravity Which Is Not Austere Nor Captious, Which Belongs Not To Melancholy Nor Dwells In Contraction Of Heart: But Arises From Tenderness And Hangs Upon Reflection.

It Is Delightful To Kiss The Eyelashes Of The Beloved--is It Not? But Never So Delightful As When Fresh Tears Are On Them.