We Have Power Over Nothing Except Our

Most Pleasures Embrace Us But To Strangle.

Reason Has So Many Forms That We Do Not Know Which To Choose-experiment Has No Fewer.

We Commend A Horse For His Strength, And Sureness Of Foot, And Not For His Rich Caparisons; A Greyhound For His Share Of Heels, Not For His Fine Collar; A Hawk For Her Wing, Not For Her Jesses And Bells. Why, In Like Manner, Do We Not Value A Man For What Is Properly His Own? He Has A Great Train, A Beautiful Palace, So Much Credit, So Many Thousand Pounds A Year, And All These Are About Him, But Not In Him.

Every Period Of Life Has Its Peculiar Prejudices; Whoever Saw Old Age, That Did Not Applaud The Past, And Condemn The Present Times?

The Laws Of Conscience, Though We Ascribe Them To Nature, Actually Come From Custom.