If We Commit Any Crime,

My Retirement Was Now Become Solitude; The Former Is, I Believe, The Best State For The Mind Of Man, The Latter Almost The Worst. In Complete Solitude, The Eye Wants Objects, The Heart Wants Attachments, The Understanding Wants Reciprocation. The Character Loses Its Tenderness When It Has Nothing To Strengthen It, Its Sweetness When It Has Nothing To Soothe It.

All Desire The Gifts Of God, But They Do Not Desire God.

Genius Without Religion Is Only A Lamp On The Outer Gate Of A Palace; It May Serve To Cast A Gleam Of Light On Those That Are Without, While The Inhabitant Sits In Darkness.

Idleness Among Children, As Among Men, Is The Root Of All Evil, And Leads To No Other Evil More Certain Than Ill Temper.

Where Bright Imagination Reigns, The Fine-wrought Spirit Feels Acuter Pains.