With So Many Thousand Joys, Is It

The Darkness Of Death Is Like The Evening Twilight; It Makes All Objects Appear More Lovely To The Dying.

We Learn Our Virtues From Our Friends Who Love Us; Our Faults From The Enemy Who Hates Us. We Cannot Easily Discover Our Real Character From A Friend. He Is A Mirror, On Which The Warmth Of Our Breath Impedes The Clearness Of The Reflection.

The Conscience Of Children Is Formed By The Influences That Surround Them; Their Notions Of Good And Evil Are The Result Of The Moral Atmosphere They Breathe.

For Sleep, Riches And Health To Be Truly Enjoyed And Gratefully Appreciated, They Must Be Interrupted So The Person Can See That Not Having Them Is Not As Good As Having Them.

A Loving Maiden Grows Unconsciously More Bold.