I Wish You Would Add An Index

The Round Of A Passionate Man's Life Is In Contracting Debts In His Passion, Which His Virtue Obliges Him To Pay. He Spends His Time In Outrage And Acknowledgment, Injury And Reparation.

There Is A Certain Race Of Men That Either Imagine It Their Duty, Or Make It Their Amusement, To Hinder The Reception Of Every Work Of Learning Or Genius, Who Stand As Sentinels In The Avenues Of Fame, And Value Themselves Upon Giving Ignorance And Envy The First Notice Of A Prey.

The Power Of Punishment Is To Silence, Not To Confute.

Whatever Is Proposed, It Is Much Easier To Find Reasons For Rejecting Than Embracing.

There Is Such A Difference Between The Pursuits Of Men In Great Cities That One Part Of The Inhabitants Lives To Little Other Purpose Than To Wonder At The Rest. Some Have Hopes And Fears, Wishes And Aversions, Which Never Enter Into The Thoughts Of Others, And Inquiry Is Laboriously Exerted To Gain That Which Those Who Possess It Are Ready To Throw Away.