My Heart Leaps At The Trumpet's Voice.

A Man That Has A Taste Of Music, Painting, Or Architecture, Is Like One That Has Another Sense, When Compared With Such As Have No Relish Of Those Arts

Man Is Distinguished From All Other Creatures By The Faculty Of Laughter.

There Is Not Any Present Moment That Is Unconnected With Some Future One. The Life Of Every Man Is A Continued Chain Of Incidents, Each Link Of Which Hangs Upon The Former. The Transition From Cause To Effect, From Event To Event, Is Often Carried On By Secret Steps, Which Our Foresight Cannot Divine, And Our Sagacity Is Unable To Trace. Evil May At Some Future Period Bring Forth Good; And Good May Bring Forth Evil, Both Equally Unexpected.

Wine Displays Every Little Spot Of The Soul In Its Utmost Deformity.

In The Loss Of An Object We Do Not Proportion Our Grief To The Real Value It Bears, But To The Value Our Fancies Set Upon It.