What an absurd thing it is to pass over all the valuable parts of a man, and fix our attention on his infirmities.

Mysterious love, uncertain treasure, hast thou more of pain or pleasure! Endless torments dwell about thee: Yet who would live, and live without thee!

Knowledge is, indeed, that which, next to virtue, truly and essentially raises one man above another.

I have somewhere met with the epitaph on a charitable man which has pleased me very much. I cannot recollect the words, but here is the sense of it: 'What I spent I lost; what I possessed is left to others; what I gave away remains with me.'

Jealousy is that pain which a man feels from the apprehension that he is not equally beloved by the person whom he entirely loves.

I always rejoice when I see a tribunal filled with a man of an upright and inflexible temper, who in the execution of his country's laws can overcome all private fear, resentment, solicitation, and even pity it self. Whatever passion enters into a sentence or decision, so far will there be in it a tincture of injustice. In short, justice discards party, friendship, kindred, and is therefore always represented as blind, that we may suppose her thoughts are wholly intent on the equity of a cause, without being diverted or prejudiced by objects foreign to it.

If there's a power above us, (And that there is all nature cries aloud Through all her works,) he must delight in virtue.