David Mallet (writer)

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“The human race are sons of sorrow born; And each must have his portion. Vulgar minds Refuse or cranch beneath their load: the brave Bear theirs without repining.”

“Who has not known ill fortune, never knew Himself, or his own virtue.”

“Affliction is the wholesome soil of virtue: Where patience, honour, sweet humanity, Calm fortitude, take root, and strongly flourish.”

“O grant me, Heaven, a middle state, Neither too humble nor too great; More than enough, for nature's ends, With something left to treat my friends.”