Oh! The Joy Of Young

That Silence Is One Of The Great Arts Of Conversation Is Allowed By Cicero Himself, Who Says, There Is Not Only An Art, But Even An Eloquence In It

A Slowness To Applaud Betrays A Cold Temper Or An Envious Spirit.

The Ubiquity Of The Divine Presence Is The Only True Support, And I Am Sometimes Astonished How Persons, Who Evidently Do Not Possess That Grand Source Of Consolation, Keep Up Their Spirits Under Trials And Difficulties. It Must Be Owing To Careless Tempers And Nerves Of Brass.

We Are Too Ready To Imagine That We Are Religious, Because We Know Something Of Religion. We Appropriate To Ourselves The Pious Sentiments We Read, And We Talk As If The Thoughts Of Other Men's Heads Were Really The Feelings Of Our Own Hearts. But Piety Has Not Its Seat In The Memory, But In The Affections, For Which However The Memory Is An Excellent Purveyor, Though A Bad Substitute.

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.