The Man Who Is Asked By An

To Write Is, Indeed, No Unpleasing Employment, When One Sentiment Readily Produces Another, And Both Ideas And Expressions Present Themselves At The First Summons; But Such Happiness, The Greatest Genius Does Not Always Obtain; And Common Writers Know It Only To Such A Degree, As To Credit Its Possibility. Composition Is, For The Most Part, An Effort Of Slow Diligence And Steady Perseverance, To Which The Mind Is Dragged By Necessity Or Resolution, And From Which The Attention Is Every Moment Starting To More Delightful Amusements.

To Hear Complaints With Patience, Even When Complaints Are Vain, Is One Of The Duties Of Friendship.

The Present Time Is Seldom Able To Fill Desire Or Imagination With Immediate Enjoyment, And We Are Forced To Supply Its Deficiencies By Recollection Or Anticipation.

That Kind Of Life Is Most Happy Which Affords Us Most Opportunities Of Gaining Our Own Esteem.

Novelty Is Indeed Necessary To Preserve Eagerness And Alacrity; But Art And Nature Have Stores Inexhaustible By Human Intellects, And Every Moment Produces Something New To Him Who Has Quickened His Faculties By Diligent Observation.