Worth Seeing, Yes; But Not Worth Going

No Man Tells His Opinion So Freely As When He Imagines It Received With Implicit Veneration.

It Is As Bad As Bad Can Be: It Is Ill-fed, Ill-killed, Ill-kept, And Ill-drest.

Deceit And Falsehood, Whatever Conveniences They May For A Time Promise Or Produce, Are, In The Sum Of Life, Obstacles To Happiness. Those Who Profit By The Cheat Distrust The Deceiver; And The Act By Which Kindness Was Sought Puts An End To Confidence.

How Many May A Man Of Diffusive Conversation Count Among His Acquaintances, Whose Lives Have Been Signalized By Numberless Escapes; Who Never Cross The River But In A Storm, Or Take A Journey Into The Country Without More Adventures Than Befel The Knights-errant Of Ancient Times In Pathless Forests Or Enchanted Castles! How Many Must He Know, To Whom Portents And Prodigies Are Of Daily Occurrence; And For Whom Nature Is Hourly Working Wonders Invisible To Every Other Eye, Only To Supply Them With Subjects Of Conversation?

The Life Of A Solitary Man Will Be Certainly Miserable, But Not Certainly Devout.