Time Is A Perishable Commodity.

Nothing Can Be More Real, Or Concern Us More, Than Our Own Sentiments Of Pleasure And Uneasiness; And If These Be Favourable To Virtue And Unfavourable To Vice, No More Can Be Requisite To The Regulation Of Our Conduct And Behavior.

Does A Man Of Sense Run After Every Silly Tale Of Hobgoblins Or Fairies, And Canvass Particularly The Evidence? I Never Knew Anyone, That Examined And Deliberated About Nonsense Who Did Not Believe It Before The End Of His Enquiries.

[priests Are] The Pretenders To Power And Dominion, And To A Superior Sanctity Of Character, Distinct From Virtue And Good Morals.

Eloquence, When At Its Highest Pitch, Leaves Little Room For Reason Or Reflection; But Addressing Itself Entirely To The Fancy Or The Affections, Captivates The Willing Hearers, And Subdues Their Understanding. Happily, This Pitch It Seldom Attains. But What A Tully Or A Demosthenes Could Scarcely Effect Over A Roman Or Athenian Audience, Every Capuchin, Every Itinerant Or Stationary Teacher Can Perform Over The Generality Of Mankind, And In A Higher Degree, By Touching Such Gross And Vulgar Passions.

Such Is The Nature Of Novelty That Where Anything Pleases It Becomes Doubly Agreeable If New; But If It Displeases, It Is Doubly Displeasing On That Very Account.