As Any Custom Is Disused, The Words

To Revenge Reasonable Incredulity By Refusing Evidence, Is A Degree Of Insolence With Which The World Is Not Yet Acquainted; And Stubborn Audacity Is The Last Refuge Of Guilt.

He That Compares What He Has Done With What He Has Left Undone, Will Feel The Effect Which Must Always Follow The Comparison Of Imagination With Reality; He Will Look With Contempt On His Own Unimportance, And Wonder To What Purpose He Came Into The World; He Will Repine That He Shall Leave Behind Him No Evidence Of His Having Been, That He Has Added Nothing To The System Of Life, But Has Glided From Youth To Age Among The Crowd, Without Any Effort For Distinction.

The Truth Is That The Spectators Are Always In Their Senses, And Know, From The First Act To The Last, That The Stage Is Only A Stage, And That The Players Are Only Players.

...it Will Not Always Happen That The Success Of A Poet Is Proportionate To His Labor.

No Mind Is Much Employed Upon The Present; Recollection And Anticipation Fill Up Almost All Our Moments.