He Who Praises Everybody, Praises Nobody.

We Are Unreasonably Desirous To Separate The Goods Of Life From Those Evils Which Providence Has Connected With Them, And To Catch Advantages Without Paying The Price At Which They Are Offered To Us. Every Man Wishes To Be Rich, But Very Few Have The Powers Necessary To Raise A Sudden Fortune, Either By New Discoveries, Or By Superiority Of Skill In Any Necessary Employment; And Among Lower Understandings Many Want The Firmness And Industry Requisite To Regular Gain And Gradual Acquisitions.

Is Not A Patron, My Lord, One Who Looks With Unconcern On A Man Struggling For Life In The Water, And When He Has Reached Ground Encumbers Him With Help? The Notice Which You Have Been Pleased To Take Care Of My Labors, Had It Been Early, Had Been Kind; But It Has Been Delayed Till I Am Indifferent, And Cannot Enjoy It; Till I Am Solitary, And Cannot Impart It; Till I Am Known, And Do Not Want It.

The Vicious Count Their Years; Virtuous, Their Acts.

The Great End Of Prudence Is To Give Cheerfulness To Those Hours Which Splendour Cannot Gild, And Acclamation Cannot Exhilarate; Those Soft Intervals Of Unbended Amusement, In Which A Man Shrinks To His Natural Dimensions, And Throws Aside The Ornaments Or Disguises Which He Feels In Privacy To Be Useless Incumbrances, And To Lose All Effect When They Become Familiar. To Be Happy At Home Is The Ultimate Result Of All Ambition, The End To Which Every Enterprise And Labour Tends, And Of Which Every Desire Prompts The Prosecution.

No Man Is Obliged To Do As Much As He Can Do. A Man Is To Have Part Of His Life To Himself.