A Show Of A Certain

The Great Charm Of Conversation Consists Less In The Display Of One's Own Wit And Intelligence Than In The Power To Draw Forth The Resources Of Others.

Let Us Not Envy Some Men Their Accumulated Riches; Their Burden Would Be Too Heavy For Us; We Could Not Sacrifice, As They Do, Health, Quiet, Honor And Conscience, To Obtain Them: It Is To Pay So Dear From Them That The Bargain Is A Loss.

A Long Disease Seems To Be A Halting Place Between Life And Death, That Death Itself May Be A Comfort To Those Who Die And To Those Who Are Left Behind.

There Are Some Who Speak One Moment Before They Think

What Greater Weakness Can There Be Than Not To Know What Is The Source Of One's Being, Of One's Life, Of One's Senses, Of One's Knowledge, And What Is To Be Their End? What Can Be More Deeply Disheartening Than To Wonder Whether One's Soul Is, Perhaps, A Material Thing, Like A Stone Or A Reptile, Corruptible Like These Base Creatures? Is There Not More Strength And Greatness Of Mind In Admitting The Idea Of A Being Superior To All Other Beings, Who Has Made Them All And To Whom All Owe Their Existence; Of A Being Supremely Perfect, Who Is Pure, Who Had No Beginning And Can Have No Ending, Of Whom Our Soul Is The Image And, So To Speak, A Portion, Being A Spiritual And Immortal Thing?