There Is Nothing So Clear-sighted

Nobility, Without Virtue, Is A Fine Setting Without A Gem

Virtue, Without The Graces, Is Like A Rich Diamond Unpolished--it Hardly Looks Better Than A Common Pebble; But When The Hand Of The Master Rubs Off The Roughness, And Forms The Sides Into A Thousand Brilliant Surfaces, It Is Then That We Acknowledge Its Worth, Admire Its Beauty, And Long To Wear It In Our Bosoms.

We Value The Devotedness Of Friendship Rather As An Oblation To Vanity Than As A Free Interchange Of Hearts; An Endearing Contract Of Sympathy, Mutual Forbearance, And Respect!

That Grief Is The Most Durable Which Flows Inward, And Buries Its Streams With Its Fountain, In The Depths Of The Heart.

Bright Was The Summer Of 1296. The War Which Had Desolated Scotland Was Then At An End.