In The Common Run Of

In The Loss Of An Object We Do Not Proportion Our Grief To The Real Value It Bears, But To The Value Our Fancies Set Upon It.

The Moral Perfections Of The Deity, The More Attentively, We Consider, The More Perfectly Still Shall We Know Them.

The Soul, Secured In Her Existence, Smiles At The Drawn Dagger, And Defies Its Point.

Courage Is The Thing. All Goes If Courage Goes.

'tis Liberty That Crowns Britannia's Isle, And Makes Her Barren Rocks And Her Bleak Mountains Smile... 'tis Britain's Care To Watch O'er Europe's Fate, And Hold In Balance Each Contending State, To Threaten Bold Presumptuous Kings With War, And Answer Her Afflicted Neighbours' Prayer... Soon As Her Fleets Appear Their Terrors Cease.