As To Precedents, To Be Sure They

He That Embarks On The Voyage Of Life Will Always Wish To Advance Rather By The Impulse Of The Wind Than The Strokes Of The Oar; And Many Fold In Their Passage; While They Lie Waiting For The Gale.

Whoever Shall Review His Life, Will Find That The Whole Tenor Of His Conduct Has Been Determined By Some Accident Of No Apparent Moment.

The Task Of An Author Is, Either To Teach What Is Not Known, Or To Recommend Known Truths By His Manner Of Adorning Them; Either To Let New Light In Upon The Mind, And Open New Scenes To The Prospect, Or To Vary The Dress And Situation Of Common Objects, So As To Give Them Fresh Grace And More Powerful Attractions, To Spread Such Flowers Over The Regions Through Which The Intellect Has Already Made Its Progress, As May Tempt It To Return, And Take A Second View Of Things Hastily Passed Over, Or Negligently Regarded.

The Prosperity Of A People Is Proportionate To The Number Of Hands And Minds Usefully Employed. To The Community, Sedition Is A Fever, Corruption Is A Gangrene, And Idleness Is An Atrophy. Whatever Body Or Society Wastes More Than It Acquires, Must Gradually Decay, And Every Being That Continues To Be Fed, And Eases To Labor, Takes Away Something From The Public Stock.

He That Compares What He Has Done With What He Has Left Undone, Will Feel The Effect Which Must Always Follow The Comparison Of Imagination With Reality; He Will Look With Contempt On His Own Unimportance, And Wonder To What Purpose He Came Into The World; He Will Repine That He Shall Leave Behind Him No Evidence Of His Having Been, That He Has Added Nothing To The System Of Life, But Has Glided From Youth To Age Among The Crowd, Without Any Effort For Distinction.