It Is More From Carelessness About Truth

None But Those Who Have Learned The Art Of Subjecting Their Senses As Well As Reason To Hypothetical Systems Can Be Persuaded By The Most Specious Rhetorician That The Lots Of Life Are Equal; Yet It Cannot Be Denied That Every One Has His Peculiar Pleasures And Vexations, That External Accidents Operate Variously Upon Different Minds, And That No Man Can Exactly Judge From His Own Sensations What Another Would Feel In The Same Circumstances.

Except During The Nine Months Before He Draws His First Breath, No Man Manages His Affairs As Well As A Tree. We Are Inclined To Believe Those Whom We Do Not Know Because They Have Never Deceived Us.

Sorrow Is A Kind Of Rust Of The Soul, Which Every New Idea Contributes In Its Passage To Scour Away. It Is The Putrefaction Of Stagnant Life, And Is Remedied By Exercise And Motion.

Faction Seldom Leaves A Man Honest, However It Might Find Him.

Indolence Is The Devil's Cushion.