A Writer Only Begins A Book. A

There Lurks, Perhaps, In Every Human Heart A Desire Of Distinction, Which Inclines Every Man First To Hope, And Then To Believe, That Nature Has Given Him Something Peculiar To Himself.

Judgment Is Forced Upon Us By Experience

I Would Consent To Have A Limb Amputated To Recover My Spirits

Surely A Long Life Must Be Somewhat Tedious, Since We Are Forced To Call In So Many Trifling Things To Help Rid Us Of Our Time, Which Will Never Return.

The Business Of Life Summons Us Away From Useless Grief, And Calls Us To The Exercise Of Those Virtues Of Which We Are Lamenting Our Deprivation.