Here Let Me Sit In Sorrow For

Pity, Though It May Often Relieve, Is But, At Best, A Short-lived Passion, And Seldom Affords Distress More Than Transitory Assistance; With Some It Scarce Lasts From The First Impulse Till The Hand Can Be Put Into The Pocket.

You Will Always Find That Those Are Most Apt To Boast Of National Merit, Who Have Little Or Not Merit Of Their Own To Depend On . . .

In My Time, The Follies Of The Town Crept Slowly Among Us, But Now They Travel Faster Than A Stagecoach.

Laws Grind The Poor, And Rich Men Rule The Law.

All The Bloomy Flush Of Life Is Fled.