Depend Upon It That If A Man

I Have Two Very Cogent Reasons For Not Printing Any List Of Subscribers; One, That I Have Lost All The Names, The Other, That I Have Spent All The Money.

Few Of Those Who Fill The World With Books, Have Any Pretensions To The Hope Either Of Pleasing Or Instructing. They Have Often No Other Task Than To Lay Two Books Before Them, Out Of Which They Compile A Third, Without Any New Material Of Their Own, And With Very Little Application Of Judgment To Those Which Former Authors Have Supplied.

One Of The Amusements Of Idleness Is Reading Without Fatigue Of Close Attention; And The World, Therefore, Swarms With Writers Whose Wish Is Not To Be Studied, But To Be Read.

Words Become Low By The Occasions To Which They Are Applied, Or The General Character Of Them Who Use Them; And The Disgust Which They Produce Arises From The Revival Of Those Images With Which They Are Commonly United.

I Look Upon This As I Did Upon The Dictionary: It Is All Work, And My Inducement To It Is Not Love Or Desire Of Fame, But The Want Of Money, Which Is The Only Motive To Writing That I Know Of.