A Faint Endeavor Ends In A Sure

Absence In Love Is Like Water Upon Fire; A Little Quickens, But Much Extinguishes It.

The Keen Spirit Seizes The Prompt Occasion, Makes The Thought Start Into Instant Action, And At Once Plans And Performs, Resolves And Executes!

Love Never Reasons, But Profusely Gives, Gives, Like A Thoughtless Prodigal, Its All, And Trembles Then, Lest It Has Done Too Little.

No Adulation; 'tis The Death Of Virtue; Who Flatters, Is Of All Mankind The Lowest Save He Who Courts The Flattery.

We Are Too Ready To Imagine That We Are Religious, Because We Know Something Of Religion. We Appropriate To Ourselves The Pious Sentiments We Read, And We Talk As If The Thoughts Of Other Men's Heads Were Really The Feelings Of Our Own Hearts. But Piety Has Not Its Seat In The Memory, But In The Affections, For Which However The Memory Is An Excellent Purveyor, Though A Bad Substitute.