If It Be Usual To Be Strongly

There Is Nothing Men Are So Anxious To Keep, And Yet Are So Careless About, As Life.

We Meet With Few Utterly Dull And Stupid Souls: The Sublime And Transcendent Are Still Fewer; The Generality Of Mankind Stand Between These Two Extremes: The Interval Is Filled With Multitudes Of Ordinary Geniuses, But All Very Useful, And The Ornaments And Supports Of The Commonwealth.

Modesty Is To Merit, What Shade Is To Figures In A Picture; It Gives It Strength And Makes It Stand Out.

There Are Some Souls So Base And Filthy That They Love Gain And Interest As Noble Souls Love Fame And Virtue, Knowing One Pleasure Only, That Of Making Money Or Of Not Losing It; Anxious And Avid For Their Ten Per Cent; Entirely Preoccupied With What Is Owed Them; Forever Concerned About The Depreciation Or Discredit Of Money; Buried, And As It Were Engulfed, Amid Contracts, Title-deeds And Parchments. Such People Are Neither Parents, Friends, Citizens Or Christians, Nor, Perhaps, Even Men; They Merely Have Money.

If Poverty Is The Mother Of All Crimes, Lack Of Intelligence Is The Father.