Whoever Envies Another Confesses His Superiority.

I Have Often Thought That There Has Rarely Passed A Life Of Which A Judicious And Faithful Narrative Would Not Be Useful; For Not Only Every Man Has, In The Mighty Mass Of The World, Great Numbers In The Same Condition With Himself, To Whom His Mistakes And Miscarriages, Escapes And Expedients, Would Be Of Immediate And Apparent Use; But There Is Such A Uniformity In The State Of Man, Considered Apart From Adventitious And Separable Decorations And Disguises, That There Is Scarce Any Possibility Of Good Or Ill But Is Common To Human Kind.

No Degree Of Knowledge Attainable By Man Is Able To Set Him Above The Want Of Hourly Assistance.

Rags Will Always Make Their Appearance Where They Have A Right To Do It.

It Seems To Be Remarkable That Death Increases Our Veneration For The Good, And Extenuates Our Hatred For The Bad.

It Is Easy For A Man Who Sits Idle At Home, And Has Nobody To Please But Himself, To Ridicule Or Censure The Common Practices Of Mankind.