Nobody Can Write The Life Of A

We All Live Upon The Hope Of Pleasing Somebody, And The Pleasure Of Pleasing Ought To Be Greatest, And At Last Always Will Be Greatest, When Our Endeavours Are Exerted In Consequence Of Our Duty.

Every Human Being Whose Mind Is Not Debauched, Will Be Willing To Give All That He Has To Get Knowledge.

As Peace Is The End Of War, So To Be Idle Is The Ultimate Purpose Of The Busy.

Every Cold Empirick, When His Heart Is Expanded By A Successful Experiment, Swells Into A Theorist.

Men Are Generally Idle, And Ready To Satisfy Themselves, And Intimidate The Industry Of Others, By Calling That Impossible Which Is Only Difficult.