Anger And Folly Walk Cheeck By Jowl.

Money Makes Money. And The Money That Makes Money Makes More Money.

I Have Heard That Nothing Gives An Author So Great Pleasure, As To Find His Works Respectfully Quoted By Other Learned Authors.

Don't Think To Hunt Two Hares With One Dog.

Perhaps The History Of The Errors Of Mankind, All Things Considered, Is More Valuable And Interesting Than That Of Their Discoveries. Truth Is Uniform And Narrow; It Constantly Exists, And Does Not Seem To Require So Much An Active Energy, As A Passive Aptitude Of The Soul In Order To Encounter It. But Error Is Endlessly Diversified; It Has No Reality, But Is The Pure And Simple Creation Of The Mind That Invents It. In This Field The Soul Has Room Enough To Expand Herself, To Display All Her Boundless Faculties, And All Her Beautiful And Interesting Extravagancies And Absurdities.

Death Is A Fisherman, The World We See His Fish-pond Is, And We The Fishes Be; His Net Some General Sickness; Howe'er He Is Not So Kind As Other Fishers Be; For If They Take One Of The Smaller Fry, They Throw Him In Again, He Shall Not Die: But Death Is Sure To Kill All He Can Get, And All Is Fish With Him That Comes To Net.