Hope Is The Mother Of Faith.

Something Of The Severe Hath Always Been Appertaining To Order And To Grace; And The Beauty That Is Not Too Liberal Is Sought The Most Ardently, And Loved The Longest.

The Vain Poet Is Of The Opinion That Nothing Of His Can Be Too Much: He Sends To You Basketful After Basketful Of Juiceless Fruit, Covered With Scentless Flowers.

The Habit Of Pleasing By Flattery Makes A Language Soft; The Fear Of Offending By Truth Makes It Circuitous And Conventional.

The Writing Of The Wise Are The Only Riches Our Posterity Cannot Squander.

Democracy Is Always The Work Of Kings. Ashes, Which In Themselves Are Sterile, Fertilize The Land They Are Cast Upon.