Apathy Is A Sort Of Living Oblivion.

The Way We Do Things Is To Begin.

Great Grief Makes Sacred Those Upon Whom Its Hand Is Laid. Joy May Elevate, Ambition Glorify, But Sorrow Alone Can Consecrate.

I Am The Inferior Of Any Man Whose Rights I Trample Underfoot.

Relaxation Is A Physical And Moral Necessity. Animals, Even To The Simplest And Dullest, Have Their Games, Their Sports, Their Diversions. The Toil-worn Artisan, Stooping And Straining Over His Daily Task, Which Taxes Eye And Brain And Limb, Ought To Have Opportunity And Means For An Hour Or Two Of Relaxation After That Task Is Concluded.

If, On A Full And Final Review, My Life And Practice Shall Be Found Unworthy Of My Principles, Let Due Infamy Be Heaped On My Memory; But Let None Be Led Thereby To Distrust The Principles To Which I Proved Recreant, Nor Yet The Ability Of Some To Adorn Them By A Suitable Life And Conversation. To Unerring Time Be All This Committed.