Moderation Is The Silken String

That Which The French Proverb Hath Of Sickness Is True Of All Evils, That They Come On Horseback, And Go Away On Foot; We Have Often Seen A Sudden Fall Or One Meal's Surfeit Hath Stuck By Many To Their Graves; Whereas Pleasures Come Like Oxen, Slow, And Heavily, And Go Away Like Post-horses, Upon The Spur.

Not To Be Afflicted Is A Sign Of Weakness; For, Therefore God Imposeth No More On Me, Because He Sees I Can Bear No More.

Tranquillity Consisteth In A Steadiness Of The Mind; And How Can That Vessel That Is Beaten Upon By Contrary Waves And Winds, And Tottereth To Either Part, Be Said To Keep A Steady Course? Resolution Is The Only Mother Of Security.

Our Body Is A Well-set Clock, Which Keeps Good Time, But If It Be Too Much Or Indiscreetly Tampered With, The Alarm Runs Out Before The Hour.

Society Is The Atmosphere Of Souls; And We Necessarily Imbibe From It Something Which Is Either Infectious Or Healthful.