Men Hate More Steadily Than They Love.

The Cure For The Greatest Part Of Human Miseries Is Not Radical, But Palliative.

If The Man Who Turnips Cries, Cry Not When His Father Dies, 'tis Proof That He Had Rather Have A Turnip Than His Father.

A Few Men Are Sufficient To Broach Falsehoods, Which Are Afterwards Innocently Diffused By Successive Relaters.

What Is Twice Read Is Commonly Better Remembered That What Is Transcribed.

Get Together A Hundred Or Two Men, However Sensible They May Be, And You Are Very Likely To Have A Mob.