Strange as it may seem, the most ludicrous lines I ever wrote have been written in the saddest mood.

Vice stings us even in our pleasures, but virtue consoles us even in our pains.

There is in souls a sympathy with sounds: And as the mind is pitch'd the ear is pleased With melting airs, or martial, brisk or grave; Some chord in unison with what we hear Is touch'd within us, and the heart replies.

Pernicious weed! whose scent the fair annoys, Unfriendly to society's chief joys: Thy worst effect is banishing for hours The sex whose presence civilizes ours.

God forbid that Judges upon their oath should make resolutions to enlarge jurisdiction.

Happy the man who sees a God employed in all the good and ills that checker life.

Man may dismiss compassion from his heart, but God never will.