Just Praise Is Only A Debt, But

To Exact Of Every Man Who Writes That He Should Say Something New, Would Be To Reduce Authors To A Small Number; To Oblige The Most Fertile Genius To Say Only What Is New, Would Be To Contract His Volumes To A Few Pages. Yet, Surely, There Ought To Be Some Bounds To Repetition; Libraries Ought No More To Be Heaped For Ever With The Same Thoughts Differently Expressed, Than With The Same Books Differently Decorated.

Life Is Surely Given Us For Higher Purposes Than To Gather What Our Ancestors Have Wisely Thrown Away, And To Learn What Is Of No Value But Because It Has Been Forgotten.

It Would Add Much To Human Happiness, If An Art Could Be Taught Of Forgetting All Of Which The Remembrance Is At Once Useless And Afflictive, That The Mind Might Perform Its Functions Without Encumbrance, And The Past Might No Longer Encroach Upon The Present.

Age Is Rarely Despised But When It Is, Contemptible.

Books Without The Knowledge Of Life Are Useless.