He That Pines With Hunger, Is In

The End Of Writing Is To Instruct; The End Of Poetry Is To Instruct By Pleasing.

No Man Will Be Found In Whose Mind Airy Notions Do Not Sometimes Tyrannize, And Force Him To Hope Or Fear Beyond The Limits Of Sober Probability.

Friendship, Like Love, Is Destroyed By Long Absence, Though It May Be Increased By Short Intermissions.

I Never Desire To Converse With A Man Who Has Written More Than He Has Read.

It Seems Not More Reasonable To Leave The Right Of Printing Unrestrained, Because Writers May Be Afterwards Censured, Than It Would Be To Sleep With Doors Unbolted, Because By Our Laws We Can Hang A Thief.