Towering Is The Confidence Of

When A Poet Mentions The Spring, We Know That The Zephyrs Are About To Whisper, That The Groves Are To Recover Their Verdure, The Linnets To Warble Forth Their Notes Of Love, And The Flocks And Herds To Frisk Over Vales Painted With Flowers: Yet, Who Is There So Insensible Of The Beauties Of Nature, So Little Delighted With The Renovation Of The World, As Not To Feel His Heart Bound At The Mention Of The Spring?

That Fellow Seems To Me To Possess But One Idea, And That Is A Wrong One.

Life Consists Not Of A Series Of Illustrious Actions Or Elegant Enjoyments. The Greater Part Of Our Time Passes In Compliance With Necessities, In The Performance Of Daily Duties, In The Removal Of Small Inconveniences, In The Procurement Of Petty Pleasures; And We Are Well Or Ill At Ease, As The Main Stream Of Life Glides On Smoothly, Or Is Ruffled By Small Obstacles And Frequent Interruption.

The Perfect Day For Quitting Is Not Real. It Will Never Come, So Might As Well Start Today

Sir, I Think All Christians, Whether Papists Or Protestants, Agree In The Essential Articles, And That Their Differences Are Trivial, And Rather Political Than Religious.