Without Bread All Is Misery.

Westbury, A Nasty Odious Rotten-borough, A Really Rotten Place.

I View Tea Drinking As A Destroyer Of Health, An Enfeebler Of The Frame, An En-genderer Of Effeminancy And Laziness, A Debaucher Of Youth And Maker Of Misery For Old Age. Thus He Makes That Miserable Progress Towards That Death Which He Finds Ten Or Fifteen Years Sooner Than He Would Have Found It If He Had Made His Wife Brew Beer Instead Of Making Tea.

A Full Belly To The Labourer Was, In My Opinion, The Foundation Of Public Morals And The Only Source Of Real Public Peace.

Happiness, Or Misery, Is In The Mind. It Is The Mind That Lives.

Another Great Evil Arising From This Desire To Be Thought Rich; Or Rather, From The Desire Not To Be Thought Poor, Is The Destructive Thing Which Has Been Honored By The Name Of "speculation"; But Which Ought To Be Called Gambling.