To Be Struck With His

Nothing So Effectually Deadens The Taste Of The Sublime As That Which Is Light And Radiant.

Old Religious Factions Are Volcanoes Burned Out; On The Lava And Ashes And Squalid Scoriae Of Old Eruptions Grow The Peaceful Olive, The Cheering Vine And The Sustaining Corn.

The Starry Heaven, Though It Occurs So Very Frequently To Our View, Never Fails To Excite An Idea Of Grandeur. This Cannot Be Owing To The Stars Themselves, Separately Considered. The Number Is Certainly The Cause. The Apparent Disorder Augments The Grandeur, For The Appearance Of Care Is Highly Contrary To Our Ideas Of Magnificence. Besides, The Stars Lie In Such Apparent Confusion, As Makes It Impossible On Ordinary Occasions To Reckon Them. This Gives Them The Advantage Of A Sort Of Infinity.

There Is A Sort Of Enthusiasm In All Projectors, Absolutely Necessary For Their Affairs, Which Makes Them Proof Against The Most Fatiguing Delays, The Most Mortifying Disappointments, The Most Shocking Insults; And, What Is Severer Than All, The Presumptuous Judgement Of The Ignorant Upon Their Designs.

To Govern According To The Sense And Agreement Of The Interests Of The People Is A Great And Glorious Object Of Governance. This Object Cannot Be Obtained But Through The Medium Of Popular Election, And Popular Election Is A Mighty Evil.