Language Is The Dress Of Thought; Every

An Exotic And Irrational Entertainment.

I Fancy Mankind May Come, In Time, To Write All Aphoristically, Except In Narrative; Grow Weary Of Preparation, And Connection, And Illustration, And All Those Arts By Which A Big Book Is Made.

The Hopes Of Zeal Are Not Wholly Groundless.

I Would Be Loath To Speak Ill Of Any Person Who I Do Not Know Deserves It, But I Am Afraid He Is An Attorney.

Idleness Is Often Covered By Turbulence And Hurry. He That Neglects His Known Duty And Real Employment Naturally Endeavours To Crowd His Mind With Something That May Bar Out The Remembrance Of His Own Folly, And Does Any Thing But What He Ought To Do With Eager Diligence, That He May Keep Himself In His Own Favour.