Little Would Be Wanting To

The Labor Of Rising From The Ground Will Be Great, ... But As We Mount Higher, The Earth's Attraction, And The Body's Gravity, Will Be Gradually Diminished Till We Arrive At A Region Where The Man Will Float In The Air Without Any Tendency To Fall.

At Length Weariness Succeeds To Labor, And The Mind Lies At Ease In The Contemplation Of Her Own Attainments Without Any Desire Of New Conquests Or Excursions. This Is The Age Of Recollection And Narrative; The Opinions Are Settled, And The Avenues Of Apprehension Shut Against Any New Intelligence; The Days That Are To Follow Must Pass In The Inculcation Of Precepts Already Collected, And Assertion Of Tenets Already Received; Nothing Is Henceforward So Odious As Opposition, So Insolent As Doubt, Or So Dangerous As Novelty.

I Am Not So Lost In Lexicography As To Forget That Words Are The Daughters Of Earth, And That Things Are The Sons Of Heaven.

Your Aspirations Are Your Possibilities.

What Is Good Only Because It Pleases Cannot Be Pronounced Good Till It Has Been Found To Please.