Wasting A Fortune Is Evaporation By A

I Am Not Yet So Lost In Lexicography, As To Forget That Words Are The Daughters Of The Earth, And That Things Are The Sons Of Heaven. Language Is Only The Instrument Of Science, And Words Are But The Signs Of Ideas: I Wish, However, That The Instrument Might Be Less Apt To Decay, And That Signs Might Be Permanent, Like The Things Which They Denote.

I Hate Mankind, For I Think Myself One Of The Best Of Them, And I Know How Bad I Am.

A Quibble Is To Shakespeare What Luminous Vapours Are To The Traveller: He Follows It At All Adventures; It Is Sure To Lead Him Out Of His Way And Sure To Engulf Him In The Mire.

It Is True That Of Far The Greater Part Of Things, We Must Content Ourselves With Such Knowledge As Description May Exhibit, Or Analogy Supply; But It Is True Likewise, That These Ideas Are Always Incomplete, And That At Least, Till We Have Compared Them With Realities, We Do Not Know Them To Be Just. As We See More, We Become Possessed Of More Certainties, And Consequently Gain More Principles Of Reasoning, And Found A Wider Base Of Analogy.

Waste Cannot Be Accurately Told, Though We Are Sensible How Destructive It Is. Economy, On The One Hand, By Which A Certain Income Is Made To Maintain A Man Genteelly; And Waste, On The Other, By Which On The Same Income Another Man Lives Shabbily, Cannot Be Defined. It Is A Very Nice Thing; As One Man Wears His Coat Out Much Sooner Than Another, We Cannot Tell How.