All The Bloomy Flush Of Life Is

The Volumes Of Antiquity, Like Medals, May Very Well Serve To Amuse The Curious, But The Works Of The Moderns, Like The Current Coin Of A Kingdom, Are Much Better For Immediate Use.

When A Person Has No Need To Borrow They Find Multitudes Willing To Lend.

The Soul May Be Compared To A Field Of Battle, Where The Armies Are Ready Every Moment To Encounter. Not A Single Vice But Has A More Powerful Opponent, And Not One Virtue But May Be Overborne By A Combination Of Vices.

Absence, Like Death, Sets A Seal On The Image Of Those We Love: We Cannot Realize The Intervening Changes Which Time May Have Effected.

The Europeans Are Themselves Blind Who Describe Fortune Without Sight. No First-rate Beauty Ever Had Finer Eyes, Or Saw More Clearly. They Who Have No Other Trade But Seeking Their Fortune Need Never Hope To Find Her; Coquette-like, She Flies From Her Close Pursuers, And At Last Fixes On The Plodding Mechanic Who Stays At Home And Minds His Business.