...it Will Not Always Happen That The

Hope Is Necessary In Every Condition. The Miseries Of Poverty, Of Sickness, Or Captivity, Would, Without This Comfort, Be Insupportable; Nor Does It Appear That The Happiest Lot Of Terrestrial Existence Can Set Us Above The Want Of This General Blessing; Or That Life, When The Gifts Of Nature And Of Fortune Are Accumulated Upon It, Would Not Still Be Wretched, Were It Not Elevated And Delighted By The Expectation Of Some New Possession, Of Some Enjoyment Yet Behind, By Which The Wish Shall At Last Be Satisfied, And The Heart Filled Up To Its Utmost Extent.

The Uniform Necessities Of Human Nature Produce In A Great Measure Uniformity Of Life, And For Part Of The Day Make One Place Like Another; To Dress And To Undress, To Eat And To Sleep, Are The Same In London As In The Country.

Don't Tell Me Of Deception; A Lie Is A Lie, Whether It Be A Lie To The Eye Or A Lie To The Ear.

Men Who Stand In The Highest Ranks Of Society Seldom Hear Of Their Faults; If By Any Accident An Opprobrious Clamour Reaches Their Ears, Flattery Is Always At Hand To Pour In Her Opiates, To Quiet Conviction And Obtund Remorse.

To Write Is, Indeed, No Unpleasing Employment, When One Sentiment Readily Produces Another, And Both Ideas And Expressions Present Themselves At The First Summons; But Such Happiness, The Greatest Genius Does Not Always Obtain; And Common Writers Know It Only To Such A Degree, As To Credit Its Possibility. Composition Is, For The Most Part, An Effort Of Slow Diligence And Steady Perseverance, To Which The Mind Is Dragged By Necessity Or Resolution, And From Which The Attention Is Every Moment Starting To More Delightful Amusements.