To Me - The Choice Of Life

By The Consultation Of Books, Whether Of Dead Or Living Authors, Many Temptations To Petulance And Opposition, Which Occur In Oral Conferences, Are Avoided. An Author Cannot Obtrude His Service Unasked, Nor Can Be Often Suspected Of Any Malignant Intention To Insult His Readers With His Knowledge Or His Wit. Yet So Prevalent Is The Habit Of Comparing Ourselves With Others, While They Remain Within The Reach Of Our Passions, That Books Are Seldom Read With Complete Impartiality, But By Those From Whom The Writer Is Placed At Such A Distance That His Life Or Death Is Indifferent.

Tomorrow Is An Old Deceiver, And His Cheat Never Grows Stale.

A Person Loves To Review His Own Mind. That Is The Use Of A Diary, Or Journal.

The Most Heterogeneous Ideas Are Yoked By Violence Together; Nature And Art Are Ransacked For Illustrations, Comparisons, And Allusions; Their Learning Instructs, And Their Subtlety Surprises; But The Reader Commonly Thinks His Improvement Dearly Bought And, Though He Sometimes Admires, Is Seldom Pleased.

All Envy Is Proportionate To Desire; We Are Uneasy At The Attainments Of Another, According As We Think Our Own Happiness Would Be Advanced By The Addition Of That Which He Withholds From Us.