It Is An Absurdity To Believe That

For My Part, When I Enter Most Intimately Into What I Call Myself, I Always Stumble On Some Particular Perception Or Other, Of Heat Or Cold, Light Or Shade, Love Or Hatred, Pain Or Pleasure. I Never Can Catch Myself At Any Time Without A Perception, And Never Can Observe Anything But The Perception.

Avarice, The Spur Of Industry.

The Corruption Of The Best Things Gives Rise To The Worst.

All This Creative Power Of The Mind Amounts To No More Than The Faculty Of Compounding, Transposing, Augmenting, Or Diminishing The Materials Afforded Us The By Senses And Experience.

The Mention Of One Apartment In A Building Naturally Introduces An Enquiry Or Discourse Concerning The Others: And If We Think Ofa Wound, We Can Scarcely Forbear Reflecting On The Pain Which Follows It.