In Questions Of Law Or Of Fact

Yet Reason Frowns In War's Unequal Game, Where Wasted Nations Raise A Single Name; And Mortgag'd States Their Grandsire's Wreaths Regret, From Age To Age In Everlasting Debt; Wreaths Which At Last The Dear-bought Right Convey To Rust On Medals, Or On Stones Decay.

It Is, However, Not Necessary, That A Man Should Forbear To Write, Till He Has Discovered Some Truth Unknown Before; He May Be Sufficiently Useful, By Only Diversifying The Surface Of Knowledge, And Luring The Mind By A New Appearance To A Second View Of Those Beauties Which It Had Passed Over Inattentively Before.

High People, Sir, Are The Best; Take A Hundred Ladies Of Quality, You'll Find Them Better Wives, Better Mothers, More Willing To Sacrifice Their Own Pleasures To Their Children, Than A Hundred Other Woman.

Nothing Flatters A Man As Much As The Happiness Of His Wife; He Is Always Proud Of Himself As The Source Of It.

Of The Blessings Set Before You Make Your Choice, And Be Content.