Bravery Has No Place Where It Can

Most Minds Are The Slaves Of External Circumstances, And Conform To Any Hand That Undertakes To Mould Them.

When A Friend Is Carried To His Grave, We At Once Find Excuses For Every Weakness, And Palliation Of Every Fault. We Recollect A Thousand Endearments, Which Before Glided Off Our Minds Without Impression, A Thousand Favors Unrepaid, A Thousand Duties Unperformed; And Wish, Vainly Wish, For His Return, Not So Much That We May Receive As That We May Bestow Happiness, And Recompense That Kindness Which Before We Never Understood.

The Majority Have No Other Reason For Their Opinions Than That They Are The Fashion.

He That Writes May Be Considered As A Kind Of General Challenger, Whom Every One Has A Right To Attack; Since He Quits The Common Rank Of Life, Steps Forward Beyond The Lists, And Offers His Merit To The Public Judgement. To Commence Author Is To Claim Praise, And No Man Can Justly Aspire To Honour, But At The Hazard Of Disgrace.

The Irish Are A Fair People: They Never Speak Well Of One Another.