In Youth, It Is Common To Measure

Words Are But The Signs Of Ideas.

There Are Certain Topicks Which Are Never Exhausted. Of Some Images And Sentiments The Mind Of Man May Be Said To Be Enamoured; It Meets Them, However Often They Occur, With The Same Ardour Which A Lover Feels At The Sight Of His Mistress, And Parts From Them With The Same Regret When They Can No Longer Be Enjoyed.

Reason Elevates Our Thoughts As High As The Stars, And Leads Us Through The Vast Space Of This Mighty Fabric; Yet It Comes Far Short Of The Real Extent Of Our Corporeal Being.

The Uncertainty Of Death Is, In Effect, The Great Support Of The Whole System Of Life.

Foppery Is Never Cured; It Is The Bad Stamina Of The Mind, Which, Like Those Of The Body, Are Never Rectified; Once A Coxcomb Always A Coxcomb.