The Safe And General Antidote Against Sorrow

It Was The Peculiar Artifice Of Habit Not To Suffer Her Power To Be Felt At First. Those Whom She Led, She Had The Address Of Appearing Only To Attend, But Was Continually Doubling Her Chains Upon Her Companions; Which Were So Slender In Themselves, And So Silently Fastened, That While The Attention Was Engaged By Other Objects, They Were Not Easily Perceived. Each Link Grew Tighter As It Had Been Longer Worn; And When By Continual Additions They Became So Heavy As To Be Felt, They Were Very Frequently Too Strong To Be Broken.

The Diversion Of Baiting An Author Has The Sanction Of All Ages And Nations, And Is More Lawful Than The Sport Of Teasing Other Animals, Because, For The Most Part, He Comes Voluntarily To The Stake, Furnished, As He Imagines, By The Patron Powers Of Literature, With Resistless Weapons, And Impenetrable Armour, With The Mail Of The Boar Of Erymanth, And The Paws Of The Lion Of Nemea.

Such Seems To Be The Disposition Of Man, That Whatever Makes A Distinction Produces Rivalry.

Man Is A Transitory Being, And His Designs Must Partake Of The Imperfections Of Their Author. To Confer Duration Is Not Always In Our Power. We Must Snatch The Present Moment, And Employ It Well, Without Too Much Solicitude For The Future, And Content Ourselves With Reflecting That Our Part Is Performed. He That Waits For An Opportunity To Do Much At Once, May Breathe Out His Life In Idle Wishes, And Regret, In The Last Hour, His Useless Intentions And Barren Zeal.

If In An Actor There Appears An Utter Vacancy Of Meaning, A Frigid Equality, A Stupid Languor, A Torpid Apathy, The Greatest Kindness That Can Be Shown Him Is A Speedy Sentence Of Expulsion.