He who has once taken to drink can seldom be said to be guilty of one sin only.

the uncandid censurer always picks out the worst man of a class, and then confidently produces him as being a fair specimen of it.

Oh! the joy Of young ideas painted on the mind, In the warm glowing colors fancy spreads On objects not yet known, when all is new, And all is lovely.

Rage is for little wrongs; despair is dumb.

Luxury! more perilous to youth than storms or quicksand, poverty or chains.

Gentleness is the outgrowth of benignity.

O jealousy, Thou ugliest fiend of hell! thy deadly venom Preys on my vitals, turns the healthful hue Of my flesh check to haggard sallowness, And drinks my spirit up!