Society Is A More Level Surface Than

A Scholar Is Like A Book Written In A Dead Language. It Is Not Every One That Can Read In It.

The Perfect Joys Of Heaven Do Not Satisfy The Cravings Of Nature.

The Fear Of Punishment May Be Necessary To The Suppression Of Vice; But It Also Suspends The Finer Motives Of Virtue.

Every Man, In Judging Of Himself, Is His Own Contemporary. He May Feel The Gale Of Popularity, But He Cannot Tell How Long It Will Last. His Opinion Of Himself Wants Distance, Wants Time, Wants Numbers, To Set It Off And Confirm It.

Fashion Constantly Begins And Ends In The Two Things It Abhors Most, Singularity And Vulgarity.