The Nightmare Life-in-death Was She.

The Paternal And Filial Duties Discipline The Heart, And Prepare It For The Love Of All Mankind. The Intensity Of Private Attachment Encourages, Not Prevents, Universal Benevolence.

Water Cannot Rise Higher Than Its Source, Neither Can Human Reason.

I Love Being Superior To Myself Better Than [to] My Equals.

Poor Little Foal Of An Oppressed Race! I Love The Languid Patience Of Thy Face.

With No Other Privilege Than That Of Sympathy And Sincere Good Wishes, I Would Address An Affectionate Exhortation To The Youthful Literati, Grounded On My Own Experience. It Will Be But Short; For The Beginning, Middle, And End Converge To One Charge: Never Pursue Literature As A Trade.