That Grief Is The Most

The Only Impregnable Citadel Of Virtue Is Religion; For There Is No Bulwark Of Mere Morality, Which Some Temptation May Not Overtop Or Undermine, And Destroy.

When The Cup Of Any Sensual Pleasure Is Drained To The Bottom, There Is Always Poison In The Dregs.

The Perfection Of Outward Loveliness Is The Soul Shining Through Its Crystalline Covering.

Yet Happiness Isn't Something You Chase, It's Something You Are. It's Something You Think, It's Something You Believe.

The Mob Is A Sort Of Bear; While Your Ring Is Through Its Nose, It Will Even Dance Under Your Cudgel; But Should The Ring Slip, And You Lose Your Hold, The Brute Will Turn And Rend You.