The Folly Of Others Is Ever Most

Thou Source Of All My Bliss And All My Woe, That Found'st Me Poor At First, And Keep'st Me So.

Novels Teach The Youthful Mind To Sigh After Happiness That Never Existed.

We Sometimes Had Those Little Rubs Which Providence Sends To Enhance The Value Of Its Favors.

The Soul May Be Compared To A Field Of Battle, Where The Armies Are Ready Every Moment To Encounter. Not A Single Vice But Has A More Powerful Opponent, And Not One Virtue But May Be Overborne By A Combination Of Vices.

Fancy Restrained May Be Compared To A Fountain, Which Plays Highest By Diminishing The Aperture.