Circumstances Form The Character; But, Like Petrifying

Heat And Animosity, Contest And Conflict, May Sharpen The Wits, Although They Rarely Do; They Never Strengthen The Understanding, Clear The Perspicacity, Guide The Judgment, Or Improve The Heart.

Absurdities Are Great Or Small In Proportion To Custom Or Insuetude.

This Is The Pleasantest Part Of Life. Oblivion Throws Her Light Coverlet Over Our Infancy; And, Soon After We Are Out Of The Cradle We Forget How Soundly We Had Been Slumbering, And How Delightful Were Our Dreams. Toil And Pleasure Contend For Us Almost The Instant We Rise From It: And Weariness Follows Whichever Has Carried Us Away. We Stop Awhile, Look Around Us, Wonder To Find We Have Completed The Circle Of Existence, Fold Our Arms, And Fall Asleep Again.

Life Is But Sighs; And, When They Cease, 'tis Over.

We Care Not How Many See Us In Choler, When We Rave And Bluster, And Make As Much Noise And Bustle As We Can; But If The Kindest And Most Generous Affection Comes Across Us, We Suppress Every Sign Of It, And Hide Ourselves In Nooks And Covert.