A Misery Is Not To

Marriage Enlarges The Scene Of Our Happiness And Miseries.

The Consciousness Of Being Loved Softens The Keenest Pang Even At The Moment Of Parting; Yea, Even The Eternal Farewell Is Robbed Of Half Of Its Bitterness When Uttered In Accents That Breathe Love To The Last Sigh.

Guard Thy Heart On This Weak Side, Where Most Our Nature Fails.

One Would Wonder To Hear Skeptical Men Disputing For The Reason Of Animals, And Telling Us It Is Only Our Pride And Prejudices That Will Not Allow Them The Use Of That Faculty. Reason Shows Itself In All Occurrences Of Life; Whereas The Brute Makes No Discovery Of Such A Talent, But In What Immediately Regards His Own Preservation, Or The Continuance Of His Species. Animals In Their Generation Are Wiser Than The Sons Of Men; But Their Wisdom Is Confined To A Few Particulars, And Lies In A Very Narrow Compass. Take A Brute Out Of His Instinct, And You Find Him Wholly Deprived Of Understanding.

The Soul, Considered With Its Creator, Is Like One Of Those Mathematical Lines That May Draw Nearer To Another For All Eternity Without A Possibility Of Touching It; And Can There Be A Thought So Transporting As To Consider Ourselves In These Perpetual Approaches To Him, Who Is Not Only The Standard Of Perfection, But Of Happiness?