Satire Is An Abuse Of

What We Call Conscience In Many Instances, Is Only A Wholesome Fear Of The Law.

Examples Are Few Of Men Ruined By Giving.

Melancholy Sees The Worst Of Things, Things As They May Be, And Not As They Are. It Looks Upon A Beautiful Face, And Sees But A Grinning Skull.

We Trifle When We Assign Limits To Our Desires, Since Nature Hath Set None.

What A Position Of Transcendent Horror Must That Be, Where The Perpetrator Of A Great Crime, Till Then A Stranger To Positive Guilt, Finds Himself Suddenly Cut Off, And Forever, From All Human Sympathy, Isolated From Hope, The Tenant Of A Solitary Cell, And With A Wide, Impassable Gulf Yawning Between Him And That Great Brotherhood Of Which He Has Ceased To Be A Part--no Longer Regarded As A Man, But As A Monster In The Shape Of One, From Whom Mercy Herself Turns Away, And For Whom Pity Even Has No Tears!