To Be Happy At Home Is The

When A Poet Mentions The Spring, We Know That The Zephyrs Are About To Whisper, That The Groves Are To Recover Their Verdure, The Linnets To Warble Forth Their Notes Of Love, And The Flocks And Herds To Frisk Over Vales Painted With Flowers: Yet, Who Is There So Insensible Of The Beauties Of Nature, So Little Delighted With The Renovation Of The World, As Not To Feel His Heart Bound At The Mention Of The Spring?

A Generous And Elevated Mind Is Distinguished By Nothing More Certainly Than An Eminent Degree Of Curiosity.

Every Man, However Hopeless His Pretensions May Appear, Has Some Project By Which He Hopes To Rise To Reputation; Some Art By Which He Imagines That The Attention Of The World Will Be Attracted; Some Quality, Good Or Bad, Which Discriminates Him From The Common Herd Of Mortals, And By Which Others May Be Persuaded To Love, Or Compelled To Fear Him.

Were It Not For Imagination A Man Would Be As Happy In The Arms Of A Chambermaid As Of A Duchess.

For Who Is Pleased With Himself.