Self-love Is A Busy Prompter.

Such Is The Common Process Of Marriage. A Youth And Maiden Exchange Meeting By Chance, Or Brought Together By Artifice, Exchange Glances, Reciprocate Civilities, Go Home, And Dream Of One Another. Having Little To Divert Attention, Or Diversify Thought, They Find Themselves Uneasy When They Are Apart, And Therefore Conclude That They Shall Be Happy Together. They Marry, And Discover What Nothing But Voluntary Blindness Had Before Concealed; They Wear Out Life In Altercations, And Charge Nature With Cruelty.

Suspicion Is Most Often Useless Pain.

I Would Be Loath To Speak Ill Of Any Person Who I Do Not Know Deserves It, But I Am Afraid He Is An Attorney.

Among The Lower Classes Of Mankind There Will Be Found Very Little Desire Of Any Other Knowledge Than What May Contribute Immediately To The Relief Of Some Pressing Uneasiness, Or The Attainment Of Some Near Advantage.

Solitude Is Dangerous To Reason, Without Being Favourable To Virtue. Remember That The Solitary Mortal Is Certainly Luxurious, Probably Superstitious, And Possibly Mad.