Consciousness Of Our Powers Augments Them.

Some Are Born To Invent, Others To Embellish; But The Gilder Attracts More Attention Than The Architect.

Indolence Is The Sleep Of The Mind.

Our Actions Are Neither So Good Nor So Evil As Our Impulses.

The Generality Of Men Are So Bound Within The Sphere Of Their Circumstances That They Have Not Even The Courage To Get Out Of Them Through Their Ideas, And If We See A Few Whom, In A Way, Speculation Over Great Things Makes Incapable Of Mean Ones, We Find Still More With Whom The Practice Of Small Things Takes Away The Feeling For Great Ones.

We Discover In Ourselves What Others Hide From Us And We Recognize In Others What We Hide From Ourselves.