The Truest Mark Of Being Born With

Youth Is A Perpetual Intoxication; It Is A Fever Of The Mind.

To Awaken A Man Who Is Deceived As To His Own Merit Is To Do Him As Bad A Turn As That Done To The Athenian Madman Who Was Happy In Believing That All The Ships Touching At The Port Belonged To Him.

It Is As Common For Tastes To Change As It Is Uncommon For Traits Of Character.

Our Minds Are Lazier Than Our Bodies.

Pity Is A Sense Of Our Own Misfortunes In Those Of Another Man; It Is A Sort Of Foresight Of The Disasters Which May Befall Ourselves. We Assist Others,, In Order That They May Assist Us On Like Occasions; So That The Services We Offer To The Unfortunate Are In Reality So Many Anticipated Kindnesses To Ourselves.