The Inevitable Consequence Of Poverty Is Dependence.

At Length Weariness Succeeds To Labor, And The Mind Lies At Ease In The Contemplation Of Her Own Attainments Without Any Desire Of New Conquests Or Excursions. This Is The Age Of Recollection And Narrative; The Opinions Are Settled, And The Avenues Of Apprehension Shut Against Any New Intelligence; The Days That Are To Follow Must Pass In The Inculcation Of Precepts Already Collected, And Assertion Of Tenets Already Received; Nothing Is Henceforward So Odious As Opposition, So Insolent As Doubt, Or So Dangerous As Novelty.

The Parallel Circumstances And Kindred Images To Which We Readily Conform Our Minds Are, Above All Other Writings, To Be Found In The Lives Of Particular Persons, And Therefore No Species Of Writing Seems More Worthy Of Cultivation Than Biography.

There Are Few Things That We So Unwillingly Give Up, Even In Advanced Age, As The Supposition That We Still Have The Power Of Ingratiating Ourselves With The Fair Sex.

Money And Time Are The Heaviest Burdens Of Life, And... The Unhappiest Of All Mortals Are Those Who Have More Of Either Than They Know How To Use.

I Know Not, Madam, That You Have A Right, Upon Moral Principles, To Make Your Readers Suffer So Much.