Going To The Opera, Like

No Man Ever Repented Of Being A Christian On His Death Bed.

My Retirement Was Now Become Solitude; The Former Is, I Believe, The Best State For The Mind Of Man, The Latter Almost The Worst. In Complete Solitude, The Eye Wants Objects, The Heart Wants Attachments, The Understanding Wants Reciprocation. The Character Loses Its Tenderness When It Has Nothing To Strengthen It, Its Sweetness When It Has Nothing To Soothe It.

In Men This Blunder Still You Find; All Think Their Little Set Mankind.

Resentment Is An Evil So Costly To Our Peace That We Should Find It More Cheap To Forgive Even Were It No More Right.

Temptation Does Not Make The Sin, It Lies Ready In The Heart.