For Who Is Pleased With Himself.

A Writer Who Obtains His Full Purpose Loses Himself In His Own Lustre.

He Who Sees Different Ways To The Same End, Will, Unless He Watches Carefully Over His Own Conduct, Lay Out Too Much Of His Attention Upon The Comparison Of Probabilities And The Adjustment Of Expedients, And Pause In The Choice Of His Road, Till Some Accident Intercepts His Journey.

Bravery Has No Place Where It Can Avail Nothing.

Such Is The Common Process Of Marriage. A Youth And Maiden Exchange Meeting By Chance, Or Brought Together By Artifice, Exchange Glances, Reciprocate Civilities, Go Home, And Dream Of One Another. Having Little To Divert Attention, Or Diversify Thought, They Find Themselves Uneasy When They Are Apart, And Therefore Conclude That They Shall Be Happy Together. They Marry, And Discover What Nothing But Voluntary Blindness Had Before Concealed; They Wear Out Life In Altercations, And Charge Nature With Cruelty.

A Man Is Not Obliged Honestly To Answer A Question Which Should Not Properly Be Put.