No Man Can Fall Into Contempt But

The Great End Of Prudence Is To Give Cheerfulness To Those Hours Which Splendor Cannot Gild, And Acclamation Cannot Exhilarate.

There Seems To Be A Strange Affectation In Authors Of Appearing To Have Done Everything By Chance.

You Can Never Be Wise Unless You Love Reading.

Those Writers Who Lie On The Watch For Novelty Can Have Little Hope Of Greatness; For Great Things Cannot Have Escaped Former Observation.

Like An Image In A Dream The World Is Troubled By Love, Hatred, And Other Poisons. So Long As The Dream Lasts, The Image Appears To Be Real; But On Awaking It Vanishes.