The Nature Of Things Is, I Admit,

Religion Is The Basis Of Civil Society, And The Source Of All Good And Of All Comfort.

There Is A Time When The Hoary Head Of Inveterate Abuse Will Neither Draw Reverence Nor Obtain Protection.

As The Rose-tree Is Composed Of The Sweetest Flowers And The Sharpest Thorns, As The Heavens Are Sometimes Overcast—alternately Tempestuous And Serene—so Is The Life Of Man Intermingled With Hopes And Fears, With Joys And Sorrows, With Pleasure And Pain.

Thank God, Men That Art Greatly Guilty Are Never Wise.

Nothing Is So Rash As Fear; And The Counsels Of Pusillanimity Very Rarely Put Off, Whilst They Are Always Sure To Aggravate, The Evils From Which They Would Fly.