Maxioms by Joseph Addison
Great Pompey's shade complains that we are slow,
And Scipio's ghost walks unavenged amongst us!
Great Pompey's shade complains that we are slow,
And Scipio's ghost walks unavenged amongst us!
The utmost extent of man's knowledge, is to know that he knows nothing.
The utmost extent of man's knowledge, is to know that he knows nothing.
When all thy mercies, O my God,
My rising soul surveys,
Transported with the view I'm lost,
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When all thy mercies, O my God,
My rising soul surveys,
Transported with the view I'm lost,
In wonder, love and praise.
Nothing is more amiable than true modesty, and nothing more contemptible than the false
Nothing is more amiable than true modesty, and nothing more contemptible than the false
It must be so--Plato, thou reasonest well!--
Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,
This longing read more
It must be so--Plato, thou reasonest well!--
Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,
This longing after immortality?
Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror,
O falling into nought? Why shrinks the soul
Back on herself, and startles at destruction?
'Tis the divinity that stirs within us;
'Tis heaven itself, that points out an hereafter,
And intimates eternity to man.
