In His Comic Scenes, Shakespeare Seems To

Hope Itself Is A Species Of Happiness, And, Perhaps, The Chief Happiness Which This World Affords; But, Like All Other Pleasures Immoderately Enjoyed, The Excesses Of Hope Must Be Expiated By Pain.

An Italian Philosopher Said That "time Was His Estate"; An Estate Indeed Which Will Produce Nothing Without Cultivation, But Will Always Abundantly Repay The Labors Of Industry, And Generally Satisfy The Most Extensive Desires, If No Part Of It Be Suffered To Lie In Waste By Negligence, To Be Overrun With Noxious Plants, Or Laid Out For Show Rather Than For Use.

Lexicographer: A Writer Of Dictionaries, A Harmless Drudge, That Busies Himself In Tracing The Original, And Detailing The Signification Of Words.

Leave To Heaven The Measure And The Choice.

The Whole World Is Put In Motion By The Wish For Riches And The Dread Of Poverty.