Get Together A Hundred Or Two Men,

Every Man Thinks Meanly Of Himself For Not Having Been A Soldier, Or Not Having Been At Sea.

It Is Indeed Not Easy To Distinguish Affectation From Habit; He That Has Once Studiously Developed A Style, Rarely Writes Afterwards With Complete Ease.

The Trade Of Advertising Is Now So Near To Perfection That It Is Not Easy To Propose Any Improvement. But As Every Art Ought To Be Exercized In Due Subordination To The Public Good, I Cannot But Propose It As A Moral Question To These Masters Of The Public Ear, Whether They Do Not Sometimes Play Too Wantonly With Our Passions.

Genius, That Power Which Constitutes A Poet; That Quality Without Which Judgment Is Cold, And Knowledge Is Inert; That Energy Which Collects, Combines, Amplifies And Animates.

No Cause More Frequently Produces Bashfulness Than Too High An Opinion Of Our Own Importance. He That Imagines An Assembly Filled With His Merit, Panting With Expectation, And Hushed With Attention, Easily Terrifies Himself With The Dread Of Disappointing Them, And Strains His Imagination In Pursuit Of Something That May Vindicate The Veracity Of Fame, And Show That His Reputation Was Not Gained By Chance.