How much pleasure they lose (and even the pleasures of heroic poesy are not unprofitable) who take away the liberty of a poet, and fetter his feet in the shackles of a historian.
Calamity is the perfect glass wherein we truly see and know ourselves.
It is the wit and policy of sin to hate those we have abused.
Honor is the moral conscience of the great.
What one cannot, another can.
Faith lights us through the dark to Deity.