A Coxcomb Is The Blockhead's Man Of

Anything Is A Temptation To Those Who Dread It.

When We Are Dead We Are Praised By Those Who Survive Us, Though We Frequently Have No Other Merit Than That Of Being No Longer Alive.

It Seems To Me That The Spirit Of Politeness Is A Certain Attention In Causing That, By Our Words And By Our Manners, Others May Be Content With Us And With Themselves.

We Seldom Repent Talking Little, But Very Often Talking Too Much.

Life Is Short And Tedious, And Is Wholly Spent In Wishing; We Trust To Find Rest And Enjoyment At Some Future Time, Often At An Age When Our Best Blessings, Youth And Health, Have Already Left Us. When At Last I That Time Has Arrived, It Surprises Us In The Midst Of Fresh Desires; We Have Got No Farther When We Are Attacked By A Fever Which Kills Us; If We Had Been Cured, It Would Only Have Been To Give Us More Time For Other Desires.