Toleration Ought In Reality To Be Merely

Literature Is A Fragment Of A Fragment. Of All That Ever Happened, Or Has Been Said, But A Fraction Has Been Written; And Of This But Little Is Extant.

The Rose Is Wont With Pride To Swell, And Ever Seeks To Rise.

The Loss Of A Much-prized Treasure Is Only Half Felt When We Have Not Regarded Its Tenure As Secure.

The Evil One Has Left, The Evil Ones Remain.

The Theater Has Often Been At Variance With The Pulpit; They Ought Not To Quarrel. How Much Is It To Be Wished That In Both The Celebration Of Nature And Of God Were Intrusted To None But Men Of Noble Minds.