He Who Goes Round About In His

Defeat Serves To Enlighten Us.

The Enemy Of Art Is The Enemy Of Nature; Art Is Nothing But The Highest Sagacity And Exertion Of Human Nature; And What Nature Will He Honour Who Honours Not The Human?

Nothing Is So Pregnant As Cruelty; So Multifarious, So Rapid, So Ever Teeming A Mother Is Unknown To The Animal Kingdom; Each Of Her Experiments Provokes Another And Refines Upon The Last; Though Always Progressive, Yet Always Remote From The End.

A Beautiful Smile Is To The Female Countenance What The Sunbeam Is To The Landscape; It Embellishes An Inferior Face And Redeems An Ugly One.

He Who Comes From The Kitchen, Smells Of Its Smoke; And He Who Adheres To A Sect, Has Something Of Its Cant; The College Air Pursues The Student; And Dry Inhumanity Him Who Herds With Literary Pedants.