Satire Is An Abuse Of Wit. It

The Worth Of A Book Is A Matter Of Expressed Juices.

To Death We Owe Our Life; The Passing Of One Generation Opens A Way For Another.

Excessive Sensibility Is Only Another Name For Morbid Self-consciousness.

Discretion Is The Salt, And Fancy The Sugar Of Life; The One Preserves, The Other Sweetens It.

Pleasure And Pain Spring Not So Much From The Nature Of Things, As From Our Manner Of Considering Them. Pleasure, Especially, Is Never An Invariable Effect Of Particular Circumstances.