I Love Prudence Very Little, If It

Think That Day Lost Whose Descending Sun, Views From Thy Hand No Noble Action Done.

Men Have Torn Up The Roads Which Led To Heaven, And Which All The World Followed; Now We Have To Make Our Own Ladders.

Young Authors Give Their Brains Much Exercise And Little Food.

Slander Is The Solace Of Malignity.

We Are All Of Us More Or Less Echoes, Repeating Involuntarily The Virtues, The Defects, The Movements, And The Characters Of Those Among Whom We Live.