There Should Be A Stated Day For

He That Compares What He Has Done With What He Has Left Undone, Will Feel The Effect Which Must Always Follow The Comparison Of Imagination With Reality; He Will Look With Contempt On His Own Unimportance, And Wonder To What Purpose He Came Into The World; He Will Repine That He Shall Leave Behind Him No Evidence Of His Having Been, That He Has Added Nothing To The System Of Life, But Has Glided From Youth To Age Among The Crowd, Without Any Effort For Distinction.

Where Secrecy Or Mystery Begins, Vice Or Roguery Is Not Far Off.

Every Desire Is A Viper In The Bosom, Who While He Was Chill Was Harmless; But When Warmth Gave Him Strength, Exerted It In Poison.

Money And Time Are The Heaviest Burdens Of Life, And... The Unhappiest Of All Mortals Are Those Who Have More Of Either Than They Know How To Use.

How Gloomy Would Be The Mansions Of The Dead To Him Who Did Not Know That He Should Never Die: That What Now Acts Shall Continue Its Agency, And What Now Thinks Shall Think On Forever!