A Person Loves To Review His Own

A Book Should Teach Us To Enjoy Life, Or To Endure It.

Whatever Withdraws Us From The Power Of Our Senses; Whatever Makes The Past, The Distant, Or The Future Predominate Over The Present, Advances Us In The Dignity Of Thinking Beings.

A Minute Analysis Of Life At Once Destroys That Splendor Which Dazzles The Imagination. Whatsoever Grandeur Can Display, Or Luxury Enjoy, Is Procured By Offices Of Which The Mind Shrinks From The Contemplation. All The Delicacies Of The Table May Be Traced Back To The Shambles And The Dunghill; All Magnificence Of Building Was Hewn From The Quarry, And All The Pomp Of Ornament Dug From Among The Damps And Darkness Of The Mine.

It Is Not The Desire Of New Acquisitions, But The Glory Of Conquests, That Fires The Soldier's Breast; As Indeed The Town Is Seldom Worth Much, When It Has Suffered The Devastations Of A Siege.

The Dependant Who Cultivates Delicacy In Himself Very Little Consults His Own Tranquillity.