You Hesitate To Stab Me With A

Life Affords No Higher Pleasure Than That Of Surmounting Difficulties, Passing From One Step Of Success To Another, Forming New Wishes And Seeing Them Gratified.

As The Faculty Of Writing Has Chiefly Been A Masculine Endowment, The Reproach Of Making The World Miserable Has Always Been Thrown Upon The Women.

To Keep Your Secret Is Wisdom; But To Expect Others To Keep It Is Folly.

Hope Itself Is A Species Of Happiness, And, Perhaps, The Chief Happiness Which This World Affords; But, Like All Other Pleasures Immoderately Enjoyed, The Excesses Of Hope Must Be Expiated By Pain.

Criticism Is A Study By Which Men Grow Important And Formidable At Very Small Expense. The Power Of Invention Has Been Conferred By Nature Upon Few, And The Labour Of Learning Those Sciences Which May, By Mere Labour, Be Obtained, Is Too Great To Be Willingly Endured; But Every Man Can Exert Some Judgment As He Has Upon The Works Of Others; And He Whom Nature Has Made Weak, And Idleness Keeps Ignorant, May Yet Support His Vanity By The Name Of Critic.