As I Know More Of

The Chief Glory Of Every People Arises From Its Authors.

For Who Is Pleased With Himself.

Unintelligible Language Is A Lantern Without A Light.

That Distrust Which Intrudes So Often On Your Mind Is A Mode Of Melancholy, Which, If It Be The Business Of A Wise Man To Be Happy, It Is Foolish To Indulge; And If It Be A Duty To Preserve Our Faculties Entire For Their Proper Use, It Is Criminal. Suspicion Is Very Often An Useless Pain.

Their Origin Is Commonly Unknown; For The Practice Often Continues When The Cause Has Ceased, And Concerning Superstitious Ceremonies It Is In Vain To Conjecture; For What Reason Did Not Dictate, Reason Cannot Explain.