He Who Praises Everybody, Praises Nobody.

Men Who Have Flattered Themselves Into This Opinion Of Their Own Abilities, Look Down On All Who Waste Their Lives Over Books, As A Race Of Inferior Beings Condemned By Nature To Perpetual Pupilage, And Fruitlessly Endeavouring To Remedy Their Barrenness By Incessant Cultivation, Or Succour Their Feebleness By Subsidiary Strength. They Presume That None Would Be More Industrious Than They, If They Were Not More Sensible Of Deficiences; And Readily Conclude, That He Who Places No Confidence In His Own Powers Owes His Modesty Only To His Weakness.

There Are Occasions On Which It Is Noble To Dare To Stand Alone. To Be Pious Among Infidels, To Be Disinterested In A Time Of General Venality, To Lead A Life Of Virtue And Reason In The Midst Of Sensualists, Is A Proof Of A Mind Intent On Nobler Things Than The Praise Or Blame Of Men, Of A Soul Fixed In The Contemplation Of The Highest Good, And Superiour To The Tyranny Of Custom And Example.

A Successful Author Is Equally In Danger Of The Diminution Of His Fame, Whether He Continues Or Ceases To Write.

The Labor Of Rising From The Ground Will Be Great, ... But As We Mount Higher, The Earth's Attraction, And The Body's Gravity, Will Be Gradually Diminished Till We Arrive At A Region Where The Man Will Float In The Air Without Any Tendency To Fall.

Friends Are Often Chosen For Similitude Of Manners, And Therefore Each Palliates The Other's Failings Because They Are His Own.