Beauty! Thou Pretty Plaything! Dear

How Blunt Are All The Arrows Of Thy Quiver In Comparison With Those Of Guilt.

Whistling Aloud To Bear His Courage Up.

Throughout The Whole Vegetable, Sensible, And Rational World, Whatever Makes Progress Towards Maturity, As Soon As It Has Passed That Point, Begins To Verge Towards Decay.

That Discipline Which Corrects The Eagerness Of Worldly Passions, Which Fortifies The Heart With Virtuous Principles, Which Enlightens The Mind With Useful Knowledge, And Furnishes To It Matter Of Enjoyment From Within Itself, Is Of More Consequence To Real Felicity Than All The Provisions Which We Can Make Of The Goods Of Fortune.

The Grave, Dread Thing! Men Shiver When Thou'rt Named: Nature Appalled, Shakes Off Her Wonted Firmness.