Words Of Praise, Indeed, Are Almost As

Pure Motives Do Not Insure Perfect Results.

Wit, Like Poetry, Is Insusceptible Of Being Constructed Upon Rules Founded Merely In Reason. Like Faith, It Exists Independent Of Reason, And Sometimes In Hostility To It.

No Man Is Happy Without A Delusion Of Some Kind. Delusions Are As Necessary To Our Happiness As Realities.

We Absolve A Friend From Gratitude When We Remind Him Of A Favor.

There Is No Sense Of Weariness Like That Which Closes In A Day Of Eager And Unintermittent Pursuit Of Pleasure. The Apple Is Eaten, But "the Core Sticks In The Throat." Expectation Has Then Given Way To Ennui, Appetite To Satiety.