Pride Is A Vice, Which Pride Itself

No Man Can Fall Into Contempt But Those Who Deserve It.

He That Can Swim Needs Not Despair To Fly; To Swim Is To Fly In A Grosser Fluid, And To Fly Is To Swim In A Subtler. We Are Only To Proportion Our Power Of Resistance To The Different Density Of Matter Through Which We Are To Pass. You Will Be Necessarily Upborne By The Air If You Can Renew Any Impulse Upon It Faster Than The Air Can Recede From The Pressure.

Such Is The Common Process Of Marriage. A Youth And Maiden Exchange Meeting By Chance, Or Brought Together By Artifice, Exchange Glances, Reciprocate Civilities, Go Home, And Dream Of One Another. Having Little To Divert Attention, Or Diversify Thought, They Find Themselves Uneasy When They Are Apart, And Therefore Conclude That They Shall Be Happy Together. They Marry, And Discover What Nothing But Voluntary Blindness Had Before Concealed; They Wear Out Life In Altercations, And Charge Nature With Cruelty.

To Write Is, Indeed, No Unpleasing Employment, When One Sentiment Readily Produces Another, And Both Ideas And Expressions Present Themselves At The First Summons; But Such Happiness, The Greatest Genius Does Not Always Obtain; And Common Writers Know It Only To Such A Degree, As To Credit Its Possibility. Composition Is, For The Most Part, An Effort Of Slow Diligence And Steady Perseverance, To Which The Mind Is Dragged By Necessity Or Resolution, And From Which The Attention Is Every Moment Starting To More Delightful Amusements.

When A Friend Is Carried To His Grave, We At Once Find Excuses For Every Weakness, And Palliation Of Every Fault. We Recollect A Thousand Endearments, Which Before Glided Off Our Minds Without Impression, A Thousand Favors Unrepaid, A Thousand Duties Unperformed; And Wish, Vainly Wish, For His Return, Not So Much That We May Receive As That We May Bestow Happiness, And Recompense That Kindness Which Before We Never Understood.