I Am Willing To Love All Of

To Use Two Languages Familiarly And Without Contaminating One By The Other, Is Very Difficult; And To Use More Than Two Is Hardly To Be Hoped. The Prizes Which Some Have Received For Their Multiplicity Of Languages May Be Sufficient To Excite Industry, But Can Hardly Generate Confidence.

Consultation And Compliance Can Conduce Little To The Perfection Of Any Literary Performance; For Whoever Is So Doubtful Of His Own Abilities As To Encourage The Remarks Of Others, Will Find Himself Every Day Embarrassed With New Difficulties, And Will Harass His Mind, In Vain, With The Hopeless Labour Of Uniting Heterogeneous Ideas, Digesting Independent Hints, And Collecting Into One Point The Several Rays Of Borrowed Light, Emitted Often With Contrary Directions.

Among The Innumerable Mortifications Which Waylay Human Arrogance On Every Side May Well Be Reckoned Our Ignorance Of The Most Common Objects And Effects, A Defect Of Which We Become More Sensible By Every Attempt To Supply It. Vulgar And Inactive Minds Confound Familiarity With Knowledge And Conceive Themselves Informed Of The Whole Nature Of Things When They Are Shown Their Form Or Told Their Use; But The Speculatist, Who Is Not Content With Superficial Views, Harasses Himself With Fruitless Curiosity, And Still, As He Inquires More, Perceives Only That He Knows Less.

No Man Was Ever Great By Imitation.

To Write Is, Indeed, No Unpleasing Employment, When One Sentiment Readily Produces Another, And Both Ideas And Expressions Present Themselves At The First Summons; But Such Happiness, The Greatest Genius Does Not Always Obtain; And Common Writers Know It Only To Such A Degree, As To Credit Its Possibility. Composition Is, For The Most Part, An Effort Of Slow Diligence And Steady Perseverance, To Which The Mind Is Dragged By Necessity Or Resolution, And From Which The Attention Is Every Moment Starting To More Delightful Amusements.