Names Govern The World.

Small Habits Well Pursued Betimes May Reach The Dignity Of Crimes.

The Soul On Earth Is An Immortal Guest, Compelled To Starve At An Unreal Feast: A Spark, Which Upward Tends By Nature's Force: A Stream Diverted From Its Parent Source; A Drop Dissever'd From The Boundless Sea; A Moment, Parted From Eternity; A Pilgrim Panting For The Rest To Come; An Exile, Anxious For His Native Home.

The Ingenuity Of Self-deception Is Inexhaustible.

Oh! The Joy Of Young Ideas Painted On The Mind, In The Warm Glowing Colors Fancy Spreads On Objects Not Yet Known, When All Is New, And All Is Lovely.

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