I Have Often Thought What A Melancholy

Hamlet 's Character Is The Prevalence Of The Abstracting And Generalizing Habit Over The Practical. He Does Not Want Courage, Skill, Will, Or Opportunity; But Every Incident Sets Him Thinking; And It Is Curious, And At The Same Time Strictly Natural, That Hamlet, Who All The Play Seems Reason Itself, Should He Impelled, At Last, By Mere Accident To Effect His Object. I Have A Smack Of Hamlet Myself, If I May Say So.

If You Would Stand Well With A Great Mind, Leave Him With A Favorable Impression Of Yourself; If With A Little Mind, Leave Him With A Favorable Impression Of Himself.

The Words In Prose Ought To Express The Intended Meaning, And No More; If They Attract Attention To Themselves, It Is, In General, A Fault.

In Politics, What Begins In Fear Usually Ends In Folly.

Nature Has Her Proper Interest; And He Will Know What It Is, Who Believes And Feels, That Every Thing Has A Life Of Its Own, And That We Are All One Life.