Inquiries Into The Heart Are Not For

An Englishman Is Content To Say Nothing When He Has Nothing To Say.

At Length Weariness Succeeds To Labor, And The Mind Lies At Ease In The Contemplation Of Her Own Attainments Without Any Desire Of New Conquests Or Excursions. This Is The Age Of Recollection And Narrative; The Opinions Are Settled, And The Avenues Of Apprehension Shut Against Any New Intelligence; The Days That Are To Follow Must Pass In The Inculcation Of Precepts Already Collected, And Assertion Of Tenets Already Received; Nothing Is Henceforward So Odious As Opposition, So Insolent As Doubt, Or So Dangerous As Novelty.

Riches, Perhaps, Do Not So Often Produce Crimes As Incite Accusers.

To Grieve For Evils Is Often Wrong; But It Is Much More Wrong To Grieve Without Them. All Sorrow That Lasts Longer Than Its Cause Is Morbid, And Should Be Shaken Off As An Attack Of Melancholy, As The Forerunner Of A Greater Evil Than Poverty Or Pain.

It Is Not Easy To Surround Life With Any Circumstances In Which Youth Will Not Be Delightful.