Luncheon: As Much Food As One's Hand

The Finest Landscape In The World Is Improved By A Good Inn In The Foreground.

Want Of Tenderness Is Want Of Parts, And Is No Less A Proof Of Stupidity Than Depravity.

We Never Do Anything Consciously For The Last Time Without Sadness Of Heart.

A Writer Who Obtains His Full Purpose Loses Himself In His Own Lustre.

But To The Particular Species Of Excellence Men Are Directed, Not By An Ascendant Planet Or Predominating Humour, But By The First Book Which They Read, Some Early Conversation Which They Heard, Or Some Accident Which Excited Ardour And Emulation.