Ceremonies Are The Outworks Of Manners.

Of Those Who Really Love Their Sons, Few Know How To Do It. Some Spoil Them When They Are Young, And Then Quarrel With Them When They Are Grown Up, For Having Been Spoiled; Some Love Them Like Mothers, And Attend Only To The Bodily Health And Strength Of The Hopes Of Their Family, Solemnize His Birthday, And Rejoice, Like The Subjects Of The Great Mogul, At The Increase Of His Bulk: While Others, Minding, As They Think, Only Essentials, Take Pains And Pleasure To See In Their Heir, All Their Favourite Weaknesses And Imperfections.

To This Principle Of Vanity, Which Philosophers Call A Mean One, And Which I Do Not, I Owe A Great Part Of The Figure Which I Have Made In Life.

Business By No Means Forbids Pleasures; On The Contrary, They Reciprocally Season Each Other; And I Will Venture To Affirm, That No Man Enjoys Either In Perfection That Does Not Join Both.

Remember That The Wit, Humour, And Jokes Of Most Mixed Companies Are Local. They Thrive In That Particular Soil, But Will Not Often Bear Transplanting.

I Am Grown Old, And Have Possibly Lost A Great Deal Of That Fire, Which Formerly Made Me Love Fire In Others At Any Rate, And However Attended With Smoke: But Now I Must Have All Sense, And Cannot, For The Sake Of Five Righteous Lines, Forgive A Thousand Absurd Ones.