A Faint Endeavor Ends In A Sure

Indeed, I Have, Alas! Outlived Almost Every One Of My Contemporaries. One Pays Dear For Living Long.

The Wretch Who Digs The Mine For Bread, Or Ploughs, That Others May Be Fed, Feels Less Fatigued Than That Decreed To Him Who Cannot Think Or Read.

The Abuse Of Terms Has At All Times Been An Evil.

Gentleness Is The Outgrowth Of Benignity.

My Plan Of Instruction Is Extremely Simple And Limited. They Learn, On Week-days, Such Coarse Works As May Fit Them For Servants. I Allow Of No Writing For The Poor. My Object Is Not To Make Fanatics, But To Train Up The Lower Classes In Habits Of Industry And Piety.