A Man May Write At Any Time,

In Lapidary Inscriptions A Man Is Not Upon Oath.

Language Is The Dress Of Thought; Every Time You Talk Your Mind Is On Parade.

We Are Unreasonably Desirous To Separate The Goods Of Life From Those Evils Which Providence Has Connected With Them, And To Catch Advantages Without Paying The Price At Which They Are Offered To Us. Every Man Wishes To Be Rich, But Very Few Have The Powers Necessary To Raise A Sudden Fortune, Either By New Discoveries, Or By Superiority Of Skill In Any Necessary Employment; And Among Lower Understandings Many Want The Firmness And Industry Requisite To Regular Gain And Gradual Acquisitions.

Never, My Dear Sir, Do You Take It Into Your Head That I Do Not Love You; You May Settle Yourself In Full Confidence Both Of My Love And My Esteem; I Love You As A Kind Man, I Value You As A Worthy Man, And Hope In Time To Reverence You As A Man Of Exemplary Piety.

To Exact Of Every Man Who Writes That He Should Say Something New, Would Be To Reduce Authors To A Small Number; To Oblige The Most Fertile Genius To Say Only What Is New, Would Be To Contract His Volumes To A Few Pages. Yet, Surely, There Ought To Be Some Bounds To Repetition; Libraries Ought No More To Be Heaped For Ever With The Same Thoughts Differently Expressed, Than With The Same Books Differently Decorated.