Malice Scorned, Puts Out Itself; But Argued,

Greatness, With Private Men Esteem'd A Blessing, Is To Me A Curse; And We, Whom, For Our High Births, They Conclude The Happy Freemen, Are The Only Slaves. Happy The Golden Mean!

0 Summer Friendship, Whose Flat-tering Leaves Shadowed Us In Our Prosperity, With The Least Gust, Drop Off In The Autumn Of Adversity.

A Willing Mind Makes A Hard Journey Easy.

Man Was Mark'd A Friend In His Creation To Himself, And May, With Fit Ambition, Conceive The Greatest Blessings, And The Highest Honors Appointed For Him, If He Can Achieve Them The Right And Noble Way.

To Doubt Is Worse Than To Have Lost; And To Despair Is But To Antedate Those Miseries That Must Fall On Us.