The Wretched Have No Compassion, They Can

The Only End Of Writing Is To Enable Readers Better To Enjoy Life Or Better To Endure It.

You Teach Your Daughters The Diameters Of The Planets And Wonder When You Are Done That They Do Not Delight In Your Company.

The Perfect Day For Quitting Is Not Real. It Will Never Come, So Might As Well Start Today

No Man Tells His Opinion So Freely As When He Imagines It Received With Implicit Veneration.

It Is Strange That There Should Be So Little Reading In The World, And So Much Writing. People In General Do Not Willingly Read, If They Can Have Any Thing Else To Amuse Them.