If We Do Not Find Happiness In

Man Little Knows What Calamities Are Beyond His Patience To Bear Till He Tries Them; As In Ascending The Heights Of Ambition, Which Look Bright From Below, Every Step We Rise Shows Us Some New And Gloomy Prospect Of Hidden Disappointment; So In Our Descent From The Summits Of Pleasure, Though The Vale Of Misery Below May Appear, At First, Dark And Gloomy, Yet The Busy Mind, Still Attentive To Its Own Amusement, Finds, As We Descend, Something To Flatter And To Please. Still As We Approach, The Darkest Objects Appear To Brighten, And The Mortal Eye Becomes Adapted To Its Gloomy Situation.

Our Chief Comforts Often Produce Our Greatest Anxieties, And The Increase In Our Possessions Is But An Inlet To New Disquietudes.

Fine Declamation Does Not Consist In Flowery Periods, Delicate Allusions Of Musical Cadences, But In A Plain, Open, Loose Style, Where The Periods Are Long And Obvious, Where The Same Thought Is Often Exhibited In Several Points Of View.

Hope Is Such A Bait, It Covers Any Hook.

The Bashful Virgin's Sidelong Looks Of Love.