Some Fleeting Good, That Mocks Me With

One Should Not Quarrel With A Dog Without A Reason Sufficient To Vindicate One Through All The Courts Of Morality.

O Luxury! Thou Curst By Heaven's Decree!

One Writer, For Instance, Excels At A Plan Or A Title Page, Another Works Away At The Body Of The Book, And A Third Is A Dab At An Index.

There Are Some Faults So Nearly Allied To Excellence That We Can Scarce Weed Out The Vice Without Eradicating The Virtue.

The Person Whose Clothes Are Extremely Fine I Am Too Apt To Consider As Not Being Possessed Of Any Superiority Of Fortune, But Resembling Those Indians Who Are Found To Wear All The Gold They Have In The World In A Bob At The Nose.