The Same Reason That Makes Us Chide

For A Desperate Disease A Desperate Cure.

No Wonder, Said An Ancient, That Chance Has So Much Power Over Us, Since It Is By Chance That We Live.

Shame On All Eloquence Which Leaves Us With A Taste For Itself And Not For Its Substance.

If I Am To Serve As An Instrument Of Deceit, At Least Let It Be With A Clear Conscience. I Do Not Want To Be Considered Either So Affectionate Or So Loyal A Servant As To Be Found Fit To Betray Anyone.

We May So Seize On Virtue, That If We Embrace It With An Overgreedy And Violent Desire, It May Become Vicious.