There Is Scarcely Any Fault In Another

We Are Apt To Mistake Our Vocation By Looking Out Of The Way For Occasions To Exercise Great And Rare Virtues, And By Stepping Over The Ordinary Ones That Lie Directly In The Road Before Us.

I Am Persuaded That There Is No Affection Of The Human Heart More Exquisitely Pure, Than That Which Is Felt By A Grateful Son Towards A Mother.

In Grief We Know The Worst Of What We Feel But Who Can Tell The End Of What We Fear?

Oh! The Joy Of Young Ideas Painted On The Mind, In The Warm Glowing Colors Fancy Spreads On Objects Not Yet Known, When All Is New, And All Is Lovely.

Pleasure Is By Much The Most Laborious Trade I Know, Especially For Those Who Have Not A Vocation To It.