Bachelors Have Consciences, Married Men Have Wives.

In A Man's Letters You Know, Madam, His Soul Lies Naked, His Letters Are Only The Mirror Of His Breast, Whatever Passes Within Him Is Shown Undisguised In Its Natural Process. Nothing Is Inverted, Nothing Distorted, You See Systems In Their Elements, You Discover Actions In Their Motives.

Here Lies Our Good Edmund, Whose Genius Was Such, We Scarcely Can Praise It Or Blame It Too Much; Who, Born For The Universe, Narrowed His Mind, And To Party Gave Up What Was Meant For Mankind.

No Place Affords A More Striking Conviction Of The Vanity Of Human Hopes Than A Public Library.

He That Pines With Hunger, Is In Little Care How Others Shall Be Fed. The Poor Man Is Seldom Studious To Make His Grandson Rich.

Politeness Is One Of Those Advantages Which We Never Estimate Rightly But By The Inconvenience Of Its Loss.