If You Want To Be A Writer,

Fears Of The Brave And Follies Of The Wise.

In Proportion As Our Cares Are Employed Upon The Future, They Are Abstracted From The Present, From The Only Time Which We Can Call Our Own, And Of Which, If We Neglect The Apparent Duties To Make Provision Against Visionary Attacks, We Shall Certainly Counteract Our Own Purpose.

The Vicious Count Their Years; Virtuous, Their Acts.

Whatever Withdraws Us From The Power Of Our Senses; Whatever Makes The Past, The Distant, Or The Future, Predominate Over The Present, Advances Us In The Dignity Of Thinking Beings. Far From Me, And Far From My Friends Be Such Frigid Philosophy As May Conduct Us Indifferent And Unmoved Over Any Ground Which Has Been Dignified By Wisdom, Bravery, Or Virtue. That Man Is Little To Be Envied Whose Patriotism Would Not Gain Force Upon The Plain Of Marathon, Or Whose Piety Would Not Grow Warmer Among The Ruins Of Ionia.

Bias And Impartiality Is In The Eye Of The Beholder.