My Diseases Are An Asthma And A

We Must Consider How Very Little History There Is--i Mean Real, Authentic History. That Certain Kings Reigned And Certain Battles Were Fought, We Can Depend Upon As True; But All The Coloring, All The Philosophy, Of History Is Conjecture.

Cautious Age Suspects The Flattering Form, And Only Credits What Experience Tells.

No Man Tells His Opinion So Freely As When He Imagines It Received With Implicit Veneration.

The Great End Of Prudence Is To Give Cheerfulness To Those Hours Which Splendour Cannot Gild, And Acclamation Cannot Exhilarate; Those Soft Intervals Of Unbended Amusement, In Which A Man Shrinks To His Natural Dimensions, And Throws Aside The Ornaments Or Disguises Which He Feels In Privacy To Be Useless Incumbrances, And To Lose All Effect When They Become Familiar. To Be Happy At Home Is The Ultimate Result Of All Ambition, The End To Which Every Enterprise And Labour Tends, And Of Which Every Desire Prompts The Prosecution.

A Short Letter To A Distant Friend Is, In My Opinion, An Insult Like That Of A Slight Bow Or Cursory Salutation - A Proof Of Unwillingness To Do Much, Even Where There Is A Necessity Of Doing Something.