It Is The Large Aggregate Of Small

The Uncandid Censurer Always Picks Out The Worst Man Of A Class, And Then Confidently Produces Him As Being A Fair Specimen Of It.

Anger Is The Common Refuge Of Insignificance. People Who Feel Their Character To Be Slight, Hope To Give It Weight By Inflation: But The Blown Bladder At Its Fullest Distention Is Still Empty.

The Ubiquity Of The Divine Presence Is The Only True Support, And I Am Sometimes Astonished How Persons, Who Evidently Do Not Possess That Grand Source Of Consolation, Keep Up Their Spirits Under Trials And Difficulties. It Must Be Owing To Careless Tempers And Nerves Of Brass.

Oh! The Joy Of Young Ideas Painted On The Mind, In The Warm Glowing Colors Fancy Spreads On Objects Not Yet Known, When All Is New, And All Is Lovely.

Our Infinite Obligations To God Do Not Fill Our Hearts Half As Much As A Petty Uneasiness Of Our Own; Nor His Infinite Perfections As Much As Our Smallest Wants.