Strange! That What Is Enjoyed Without Pleasure

He Who Finds He Has Wasted A Shilling May By Diligence Hope To Fetch It Up Again; But No Repentance Or Industry Can Ever Bring Back One Wasted Hour.

If We Commit Any Crime, Or Do Any Good Here, It Must Be In Thought; For Our Words Are Few And Our Deeds None At All.

Love Never Reasons, But Profusely Gives, Gives, Like A Thoughtless Prodigal, Its All, And Trembles Then, Lest It Has Done Too Little.

Yes, Thou Art Ever Present, Power Divine; Not Circumscribed By Time, Nor Fixed By Space, Confined To Altars, Nor To Temples Bound. In Wealth, In Want, In Freedom, Or In Chains, In Dungeons Or On Thrones, The Faithful Find Thee.

No Adulation; 'tis The Death Of Virtue; Who Flatters, Is Of All Mankind The Lowest Save He Who Courts The Flattery.