A Page Of My Journal Is Like

After We Came Out Of The Church, We Stood Talking For Some Time Together Of Bishop Berkeley's Ingenious Sophistry To Prove The Non-existence Of Matter, And That Every Thing In The Universe Is Merely Ideal. I Observed, That Though We Are Satisfied His Doctrine Is Not True, It Is Impossible To Refute It. I Never Shall Forget The Alacrity With Which Johnson Answered, Striking His Foot With Mighty Force Against A Large Stone, Till He Rebounded From It, "i Refute It Thus."

My Wife, Who Does Not Like Journalizing, Said It Was Leaving Myself Embowelled To Posterity--a Good Strong Figure. But I Think Itis Rather Leaving Myself Embalmed. It Is Certainly Preserving Myself.

I Went To My Father's At Night. He Spoke Of Poor John [boswell's Brother] With Disgust. I Was Shocked And Said, "he's Your Son, And God Made Him." He Answered Very Harshly, "if My Sons Are Idiots, Can I Help It?

Melancholy Cannot Be Clearly Proved To Others, So It Is Better To Be Silent About It.

I Make It A Kind Of Pious Rule To Go To Every Funeral To Which I Am Invited, Both As I Wish To Pay A Proper Respect To The Dead, Unless Their Characters Have Been Bad, And As I Would Wish To Have The Funeral Of My Own Near Relations Or Of Myself Well Attended.