By Writing, You Learn To Write.

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

Grief Is A Species Of Idleness.

Of All Kinds Of Credulity, The Most Obstinate Is That Of Party-spirit; Of Men, Who, Being Numbered, They Know Not Why, In Any Party, Resign The Use Of Their Own Eyes And Ears, And Resolve To Believe Nothing That Does Not Favor Those Whom They Profess To Follow.

Profuseness Is A Cruel And Crafty Demon, That Gradually Involves Her Followers In Dependence And Debt; That Is, Fetters Them With Irons That Enter Into Their Souls.

To Read, Write, And Converse In Due Proportions, Is, Therefore, The Business Of A Man Of Letters.