It Is Commonly A Weak Man Who

Every Man Thinks Meanly Of Himself For Not Having Been A Soldier, Or Not Having Been At Sea.

He That Pursues Fame With Just Claims, Trusts His Happiness To The Winds; But He That Endeavors After It By False Merit, Has To Fear, Not Only The Violence Of The Storm, But The Leaks Of His Vessel.

It Is More From Carelessness About Truth Than From Intentionally Lying That There Is So Much Falsehood In The World.

Time Is, Of All Modes Of Existence, Most Obsequious To The Imagination.

Few Have Abilities So Much Needed By The Rest Of The World As To Be Caressed On Their Own Terms; And He That Will Not Condescend To Recommend Himself By External Embellishments Must Submit To The Fate Of Just Sentiment Meanly Expressed, And Be Ridiculed And Forgotten Before He Is Understood.