He Who Has Provoked The Shaft Of

The Happiest Part Of A Man's Life Is What He Passes Lying Awake In Bed In The Morning.

Many Of Our Miseries Are Merely Comparative: We Are Often Made Unhappy, Not By The Presence Of Any Real Evil, But By The Absence Of Some Fictitious Good; Of Something Which Is Not Required By Any Real Want Of Nature, Which Has Not In Itself Any Power Of Gratification, And Which Neither Reason Nor Fancy Would Have Prompted Us To Wish, Did We Not See It In The Possession Of Others.

Reflect That Life, Like Every Other Blessing, Derives Its Value From Its Use Alone.

Resolve Not To Be Poor: Whatever You Have, Spend Less. Poverty Is A Great Enemy To Human Happiness; It Certainly Destroys Liberty, And It Makes Some Virtues Impracticable, And Others Extremely Difficult.

Words Too Familiar, Or Too Remote, Defeat The Purpose Of A Poet.