I Do Not Much Wish

There Is Not, Perhaps, To A Mind Well Instructed, A More Painful Occurrence, Than The Death Of One We Have Injured Without Reparation.

We Frequently Fall Into Error And Folly, Not Because The True Principles Of Action Are Not Known, But Because For A Time They Are Not Remembered; He May, Therefore, Justly Be Numbered Among The Benefactors Of Mankind Who Contracts The Great Rules Of Life Into Short Sentences That May Early Be Impressed On The Memory, And Taught By Frequent Recollection To Occur Habitually To The Mind.

Poetry Is The Art Of Uniting Pleasure With Truth.

There Are Goods So Opposed That We Cannot Seize Both, But, By Too Much Prudence, May Pass Between Them At Too Great A Distance To Reach Either.

When Once The Forms Of Civility Are Violated, There Remains Little Hope Of Return To Kindness Or Decency.