Money Is The Fruit Of Evil, As

Beauty May Be The Object Of Liking--great Qualities Of Admiration--good Ones Of Esteem--but Love Only Is The Object Of Love.

Contempt Of Others Is The Truest Symptom Of A Base And Bad Heart,--while It Suggests Itself To The Mean And The Vile, And Tickles There Little Fancy On Every Occasion, It Never Enters The Great And Good Mind But On The Strongest Motives; Nor Is It Then A Welcome Guest,--affording Only An Uneasy Sensation, And Bringing Always With It A Mixture Of Concern And Compassion.

Guilt, On The Contrary, Like A Base Thief, Suspects Every Eye That Beholds Him To Be Privy To His Transgressions, And Every Tongue That Mentions His Name To Be Proclaiming Them.

An Author Ought To Consider Himself, Not As A Gentleman Who Gives A Private Or Eleemosynary Treat, But Rather As One Who Keeps A Public Ordinary, At Which All Persons Are Welcome For Their Money.

Worth Begets In Base Minds, Envy; In Great Souls, Emulation.