Slaves Lose Everything In Their Chains, Even

Rather Suffer An Injustice Than Commit One.

Our Greatest Evil Flows From Ourselves.

As Evening Approached, I Came Down From The Heights Of The Island, And I Liked Then To Go And Sit On The Shingle In Some Secluded Spot By The Lake; There The Noise Of The Waves And The Movement Of The Water, Taking Hold Of My Senses And Driving All Other Agitation From My Soul, Would Plunge Me Into Delicious Reverie In Which Night Often Stole Upon Me Unawares.

An Honest Man Nearly Always Thinks Justly.

Slaves Lose Everything In Their Chains, Even The Desire Of Escaping From Them.