Error Is Always Talkative.

No Vernal Blooms Their Torpid Rocks Array, But Winter Lingering Chills The Lap Of May; No Zephyr Fondly Sues The Mountain's Breast, But Meteors Glare, And Stormy Glooms Invest.

Man Wants But Little Here Below, Nor Wants That Little Long.

If The Soul Be Happily Disposed, Every Thing Becomes Capable Of Affording Entertainment, And Distress Will Almost Want A Name.

And His Best Riches, Ignorance Of Wealth.

Religion Does What Philosophy Could Never Do; It Shows The Equal Dealings Of Heaven To The Happy And The Unhappy, And Levels All Human Enjoyments To Nearly The Same Standard. It Gives To Both Rich And Poor The Same Happiness Hereafter, And Equal Hopes To Aspire After It.