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Truth Is Not Exciting Enough To Those Who Depend On The Characters And Lives Of Their Neighbors For All Their Amusement.

Beauty Is But The Sensible Image Of The Infinite. Like Truth And Justice, It Lives Within Us; Like Virtue And The Moral Law, It Is A Companion Of The Soul.

Truth Is Not Exciting Enough To Those Who Depend On The Characters And Lives Of Their Neighbors For All Their Amusement; And If A Story Is Told Of More Than Common Interest, Ennui Is Sure To Have Its Joy In Adding Embellishments. If Hours Did Not Hang Heavy, What Would Become Of Scandal?

The Charities Of Life Are Scattered Everywhere, Enameling The Vales Of Human Beings As The Flowers Paint The Meadows. They Are Not The Fruit Of Study, Nor The Privilege Of Refinement, But A Natural Instinct.

Conscience Is The Mirror Of Our Souls, Which Represents The Errors Of Our Lives In Their Full Shape.