The Noblest Digladiation Is In The Theatre

The World, Which Took Six Days To Make, Is Likely To Take Us Six Thousand Years To Make Out.

To Extend Our Memories By Monuments, Whose Death We Daily Pray For, And Whose Duration We Cannot Hope, Without Injury To Our Expectations In The Advent Of The Last Day, Were A Contradiction To Our Belief.

Where We Desire To Be Informed 'tis Good To Contest With Men Above Ourselves; But To Confirm And Establish Our Opinions, 'tis Best To Argue With Judgments Below Our Own, That The Frequent Spoils And Victories Over Their Reasons May Settle In Ourselves An Esteem And Confirmed Opinion Of Our Own.

The Man Without A Navel Still Lives In Me.

Where I Cannot Satisfy My Reason, I Love To Humour My Fancy.