My Voice Is Still For

Music, The Greatest Good That Mortals Know, And All Of Heaven We Have Below. Music Can Noble Hints Impart, Engender Fury, Kindle Love; 40 With Unsuspected Eloquence Can Move, And Manage All The Man With Secret Art. When Orpheus Strikes The Trembling Lyre The Streams Stand Still, The Stones Admire; The Listening Savages Advance, The World And Lamb Around Him Trip The Bears In Aukward Measures Leap, And Tigers Mingle In The Dance The Moving Woods Attended As He Played And Rhodope Was Left Without A Shade.

I Have Somewhere Met With The Epitaph On A Charitable Man Which Has Pleased Me Very Much. I Cannot Recollect The Words, But Here Is The Sense Of It: 'what I Spent I Lost; What I Possessed Is Left To Others; What I Gave Away Remains With Me.'

We Have In England A Particular Bashfulness In Every Thing That Regards Religion.

Hunting Is Not A Proper Employment For A Thinking Man.

Young Men Soon Give, And Soon Forget, Affronts; Old Age Is Slow In Both.