To Make Dictionaries Is Dull Work.

It Is, Indeed, At Home That Every Man Must Be Known By Those Who Would Make A Just Estimate Either Of His Virtue Or Felicity; For Smiles And Embroidery Are Alike Occasional, And The Mind Is Often Dressed For Show In Painted Honor, And Fictitious Benevolence.

Every Other Author May Aspire To Praise; The Lexicographer Can Only Hope To Escape Reproach.

The Cure For The Greatest Part Of Human Miseries Is Not Radical, But Palliative.

Pleasure Itself Is Not A Vice

When I Was As You Are Now, Towering In The Confidence Of Twenty-one, Little Did I Suspect That I Should Be At Forty-nine, What I Now Am.