Paltry Affectation, Strained Allusions, And Disgusting Finery

It World Be Well Had We More Misers Than We Have Among Us.

The Europeans Are Themselves Blind Who Describe Fortune Without Sight. No First-rate Beauty Ever Had Finer Eyes, Or Saw More Clearly. They Who Have No Other Trade But Seeking Their Fortune Need Never Hope To Find Her; Coquette-like, She Flies From Her Close Pursuers, And At Last Fixes On The Plodding Mechanic Who Stays At Home And Minds His Business.

Fear Guides More To Their Duty Than Gratitude; For One Man Who Is Virtuous From The Love Of Virtue, From The Obligation He Thinks He Lies Under To The Giver Of All, There Are Ten Thousand Who Are Good Only From Their Apprehension Of Punishment.

And Fools Who Came To Scoff Remain'd To Pray.

Wept O'er His Wounds, Or Tales Of Sorrow Done, Shoulder'd His Crutch, And Shew'd How Fields Were Won.