To Make Dictionaries Is Dull Work.

I Look Upon Every Day To Be Lost, In Which I Do Not Make A New Acquaintance.

There Is No Temper More Unpropitious To Interest Than Desultory Application And Unlimited Inquiry, By Which The Desires Are Held In A Perpetual Equipoise, And The Mind Fluctuates Between Different Purposes Without Determination.

No Wonder, Sir, That He Is Vain; A Man Who Is Perpetually Flattered In Every Mode That Can Be Conceived. So Many Bellows Have Blown The Fire, That One Wonders He Is Not By This Time Become A Cinder.

He That Hopes To Look Back Hereafter With Satisfaction Upon Past Years Must Learn To Know The Present Value Of Single Minutes, And Endeavour To Let No Particle Of Time Fall Useless To The Ground.

Jesting, Often, Only Proves A Want Of Intellect.