The Folly Of Others Is Ever Most

The Dog, To Gain Some Private Ends, Went Mad, And Bit The Man.

Popular Glory Is A Perfect Coquette; Her Lovers Must Toil, Feel Every Inquietude, Indulge Every Caprice, And Perhaps At Last Be Jilted Into The Bargain. True Glory, On The Other Hand, Resembles A Woman Of Sense; Her Admirers Must Play No Tricks. They Feel No Great Anxiety, For They Are Sure In The End Of Being Rewarded In Proportion To Their Merit.

Let Schoolmasters Puzzle Their Brain, With Grammar, And Nonsense, And Learning, Good Liquor, I Stoutly Maintain, Gives Genius A Better Discerning.

The Soul May Be Compared To A Field Of Battle, Where The Armies Are Ready Every Moment To Encounter. Not A Single Vice But Has A More Powerful Opponent, And Not One Virtue But May Be Overborne By A Combination Of Vices.

What Is Genius Or Courage Without A Heart?