Nature has neither kernel Nor shell
What sort of faults may we retain, nay, even cherish in ourselves? Those faults which are rather pleasant than offensive to others.
Unrest and uncertainty are our lot.
Dispel not, the happy delusions of children.
No sacred fane requires us to submit to insult.
Tolerance comes of age. I see no fault committed that I myself could not have committed at some time or other.