True Wit, To Every Man, Is That

We Are Poor, Indeed, When We Have No Half-wishes Left Us. The Heart And The Imagination Close The Shutters The Instant They Are Gone.

Clear Writers, Like Fountains, Do Not Seem So Deep As They Are; The Turbid Look The Most Profound.

Ambition Does Not See The Earth She Treads On: The Rock And The Herbage Are Of One Substance To Her.

When The Mind Loses Its Feeling For Elegance, It Grows Corrupt And Groveling, And Seeks In The Crowd What Ought To Be Found At Home.

No Truer Word, Save God's, Was Ever Spoken, Than That The Largest Heart Is Soonest Broken.