Nothing Can Be Truly Great Which Is

If You Are Idle, Be Not Solitary; If You Are Solitary Be Not Idle.

There Seems To Be A Strange Affectation In Authors Of Appearing To Have Done Everything By Chance.

The Friendship Which Is To Be Practised Or Expected By Common Mortals, Must Take Its Rise From Mutual Pleasure, And Must End When The Power Ceases Of Delighting Each Other.

It Is Scarcely Credible To What Degree Discernment May Be Dazzled By The Mist Of Pride, And Wisdom Infatuated By The Intoxication Of Flattery.

Genius Now And Then Produces A Lucky Trifle. We Still Read The Dove Of Anacreon, And Sparrow Of Catullus; And A Writer Naturally Pleases Himself With A Performance Which Owes Nothing To The Subject.