The Oil And Wine Of Merry Meeting.

Men Are Always Doomed To Be Duped, Not So Much By The Arts Of The Other As By Their Own Imagination. They Are Always Wooing Goddesses, And Marrying Mere Mortals.

After All, It Is The Divinity Within That Makes The Divinity Without; And I Have Been More Fascinated By A Woman Of Talent And Intelligence, Though Deficient In Personal Charms, Than I Have Been By The Most Regular Beauty.

I Have Never Found, In Anything Outside Of The Four Walls Of My Study, An Enjoyment Equal To Sitting At My Writing Desk With A Clean Page, A New Theme, And A Mind Awake.

There Rise Authors Now And Then, Who Seem Proof Against The Mutability Of Language, Because They Have Rooted Themselves In The Unchanging Principles Of Human Nature.

The Slanders Of The Pen Pierce To The Heart; They Rankle Longest In The Noblest Spirits; They Dwell Ever Present In The Mind And Render It Morbidly Sensitive To The Most Trifling Collision.