Moderation Is Commonly Firm, And

Enlarge My Life With Multitude Of Days, In Health, In Sickness, Thus The Suppliant Prays; Hides From Himself His State, And Shuns To Know, That Life Protracted Is Protracted Woe. Time Hovers O'er, Impatient To Destroy, And Shuts Up All The Passages Of Joy.

Never Trust Your Tongue When Your Heart Is Bitter.

To A Poet Nothing Can Be Useless.

Our Minds, Like Our Bodies, Are In Continual Flux; Something Is Hourly Lost, And Something Acquired.... Do Not Suffer Life To Stagnate; It Will Grow Muddy For Want Of Motion: Commit Yourself Again To The Current Of The World.

Sir, They Are A Race Of Convicts, And Ought To Be Thankful For Any Thing We Allow Them Short Of Hanging.