It Is Very Strange, And Very Melancholy,

The Pleasure Of Expecting Enjoyment Is Often Greater Than That Of Obtaining It, And The Completion Of Almost Every Wish Is Found A Disappointment.

I Inherited A Vile Melancholy From My Father, Which Has Made Me Mad All My Life, At Least Not Sober.

Differences, We Know, Are Never So Effectually Laid Asleep As By Some Common Calamity; An Enemy Unites All To Whom He Threatens Danger.

Every Man Has A Lurking Wish To Appear Considerable In His Native Place.

In Order That All Men May Be Taught To Speak Truth, It Is Necessary That All Likewise Should Learn To Hear It; For No Species Of Falsehood Is More Frequent Than Flattery, To Which The Coward Is Betrayed By Fear, The Dependent By Interest, And The Friend By Tenderness: Those Who Are Neither Servile Nor Timorous Are Yet Desirous To Bestow Pleasure; And, While Unjust Demands Of Praise Continue To Be Made, There Will Always Be Some Whom Hope, Fear, Or Kindness Will Dispose To Pay Them.