The Pleasure We Feel In

Life Is Short And Tedious, And Is Wholly Spent In Wishing; We Trust To Find Rest And Enjoyment At Some Future Time, Often At An Age When Our Best Blessings, Youth And Health, Have Already Left Us. When At Last I That Time Has Arrived, It Surprises Us In The Midst Of Fresh Desires; We Have Got No Farther When We Are Attacked By A Fever Which Kills Us; If We Had Been Cured, It Would Only Have Been To Give Us More Time For Other Desires.

A Wise Man Is Not Governed By Others, Nor Does He Try To Govern Them; He Prefers That Reason Alone Prevail.

Children Enjoy The Present Because They Have Neither A Past Nor A Future.

Hatred Is So Lasting And Stubborn, That Reconciliation On A Sickbed Certainly Forebodes Death.

The Nearer We Approach Great Men, The Clearer We See That They Are Men.