We first make our habits and then our habits make us.
Reason to rule but mercy to forgive The first is the law the last prerogative.
Great wits are sure to madness near allied And thin partitions do their bounds divide.
Death in itself is nothing but we fear To be we know not what we know not where.
How can finite grasp infinity.
Look around the habitable world how few Know their own good or knowing it pursue.
Men are but children of a larger growth Our appetites as apt to change as theirs And full as craving too and full as vain.
Pains of love be sweeter far Than all other pleasures are.
A mob is the scum that rises upmost when the nation boils.
You see through love and that deludes your sight As what is straight seems crooked through the water.
They think to little who talk to much.
We must beat the iron while it is hot but we may polish it at leisure.
Set all things in their own peculiar place and know that order is the greatest grace.
But far more numerous was the herd of such Who think too little and who talk too much.
Better shun the bait than struggle in the snare.
The conscience of a people is their power.