Concealment Is The Foe Of Tranquility.

Childhood Is Never Troubled With Foresight.

I Have This Very Moment Finished Reading A Novel Called The Vicar Of Wakefield [by Oliver Goldsmith].... It Appears To Me, To Be Impossible Any Person Could Read This Book Through With A Dry Eye And Yet, I Don't Much Like It.... There Is But Very Little Story, The Plot Is Thin, The Incidents Very Rare, The Sentiments Uncommon, The Vicar Is Contented, Humble, Pious, Virtuous--but Upon The Whole The Book Has Not At All Satisfied My Expectations.

Look At Your [english] Ladies Of Quality Are They Not Forever Parting With Their Husbands - Forfeiting Their Reputations - And Is Their Life Aught But Dissipation? In Common Genteel Life, Indeed, You May Now And Then Meet With Very Fine Girls - Who Have Politeness, Sense And Conversation - But These Are Few - And Then Look At Your Trademen's Daughters - What Are They? Poor Creatures Indeed! All Pertness, Imitation And Folly.

. . . Men Seldom Risk Their Lives Where An Escape Is Without Hope Of Recompense.

There Is Something In Age That Ever, Even In Its Own Despite, Must Be Venerable, Must Create Respect And To Have It Ill Treated, Is To Me Worse, More Cruel And Wicked Than Anything On Earth