What Pity Is It That

As Vivacity Is The Gift Of Women, Gravity Is That Of Men.

True Benevolence Or Compassion, Extends Itself Through The Whole Of Existence And Sympathizes With The Distress Of Every Creature Capable Of Sensation.

Oh! Think What Anxious Moments Pass Between The Birth Of Plots, And Their Last Fatal Periods, Oh! 'tis A Dreadful Interval Of Time, Filled Up With Horror All, And Big With Death!

We Are Apt To Rely Upon Future Prospects, And Become Really Expensive While We Are Only Rich In Possibility. We Live Up To Our Expectations, Not To Our Possessions, And Make A Figure Proportionable To What We May Be, Not What We Are.

In The Loss Of An Object We Do Not Proportion Our Grief To The Real Value It Bears, But To The Value Our Fancies Set Upon It.