Revenge Is Profitable, Gratitude Is Expensive.

Our Sympathy Is Cold To The Relation Of Distant Misery.

The Pathetic Almost Always Consists In The Detail Of Little Events.

In The Purer Ages Of The Commonwealth, The Use Of Arms Was Reserved For Those Ranks Of Citizens Who Had A Country To Love, A Property To Defend, And Some Share In Enacting Those Laws Which It Was Their Interest, As Well As Duty, To Maintain. But In Proportion As The Public Freedom Was Lost In Extent Of Conquest, War Was Gradually Improved Into An Art, And Degraded Into A Trade.

Every Man Who Rises Above The Common Level Has Received Two Educations: The First From His Teachers; The Second, More Personal And Important, From Himself.

His Sumptuous Tents, And Those Of His Satraps, Afforded An Immense Booty To The Conqueror; And An Incident Is Mentioned Which Proves The Rustic But Martial Ignorance Of The Legions In The Elegant Superfluities Of Life. A Bag Of Shining Leather, Filled With Pearls, Fell Into The Hands Of A Private Soldier; He Carefully Preserved The Bag, But He Threw Away Its Contents, Judging That Whatever Was Of No Use Could Not Possibly Be Of Any Value.