What Art Was To The

The Indulgence In Grief Is A Blunder.

No Conjunction Can Possibly Occur, However Fearful, However Tremendous It May Appear, From Which A Man By His Own Energy May Not Extricate Himself, As A Mariner By The Rattling Of His Cannon Can Dissipate The Impending Waterspout.

But What Minutes! Count Them By Sensation, And Not By Calendars, And Each Moment Is A Day.

Nothing In Life Is More Remarkable Than The Unnecessary Anxiety Which We Endure, And Generally Create Ourselves.

No Government Can Be Long Secure Without A Formidable Opposition. It Reduces Their Supporters To That Tractable Number Which Can Be Managed By The Joint Influences Of Fruition And Hope. It Offers Vengeance To The Discontented, And Distinction To The Ambitious; And Employs The Energies Of Aspiring Spirits, Who Otherwise May Prove Traitors In A Division Or Assassins In A Debate.