Nay, Sir, Those Who Write In Them,

Glory, The Casual Gift Of Thoughtless Crowds! Glory, The Bribe Of Avaricious Virtue!

Life Is Surely Given Us For Higher Purposes Than To Gather What Our Ancestors Have Wisely Thrown Away, And To Learn What Is Of No Value But Because It Has Been Forgotten.

Abuse Is Often Of Service. There Is Nothing So Dangerous To An Author As Silence.

There Is Certainly No Greater Happiness Than To Be Able To Look Back On A Life Usefully And Virtuously Employed, To Trace Our Own Progress In Existence, By Such Tokens As Excite Neither Shame Nor Sorrow.

One Cause, Which Is Not Always Observed, Of The Insufficiency Of Riches, Is That They Very Seldom Make Their Owner Rich.