Foppery Is Never Cured; It Is The

Even Those To Whom Providence Has Allotted Greater Strength Of Understanding Can Expect Only To Improve A Single Science.

The Great End Of Prudence Is To Give Cheerfulness To Those Hours Which Splendour Cannot Gild, And Acclamation Cannot Exhilarate; Those Soft Intervals Of Unbended Amusement, In Which A Man Shrinks To His Natural Dimensions, And Throws Aside The Ornaments Or Disguises Which He Feels In Privacy To Be Useless Incumbrances, And To Lose All Effect When They Become Familiar. To Be Happy At Home Is The Ultimate Result Of All Ambition, The End To Which Every Enterprise And Labour Tends, And Of Which Every Desire Prompts The Prosecution.

Whatever Withdraws Us From The Power Of Our Senses; Whatever Makes The Past, The Distant, Or The Future Predominate Over The Present, Advances Us In The Dignity Of Thinking Beings.

Milton, Madam, Was A Genius That Could Cut A Colossus From A Rock; But Could Not Carve Heads Upon Cherry-stones.

But Though It Cannot Be Reasonable Not To Gain Happiness For Fear Of Losing It, Yet It Must Be Confessed, That In Proportion To The Pleasure Of Possession, Will Be For Some Time Our Sorrow For The Loss.