History Is But A Confused Heap Of

Dispatch Is The Soul Of Business, And Nothing Contributes More To Dispatch Than Method.

Most People Enjoy The Inferiority Of Their Best Friends.

I Could Wish There Were A Treaty Made Between The French And The English Theatres, In Which Both Parties Should Make Considerableconcessions. The English Ought To Give Up Their Notorious Violations Of The Unities, And All Their Massacres, Racks, Dead Bodies, And Mangled Carcasses, Which They So Frequently Exhibit Upon Their Stage. The French Should Engage To Have More Action, And Less Declamation, And Not To Cram And To Crowd Things Together To Almost A Degree Of Impossibility From A Too Scrupulous Adherence To The Unities.

How Often Should A Woman Be Pregnant? Continually, Or Hardly Ever? Or Must There Be A Certain Number Of Pregnancy Anniversaries Established By Fashion? What Do You, At The Age Of Forty-three, Have To Say On The Subject? Is It A Fact That The Laws Of Nature, Or Of The Country, Or Of Propriety, Have Ordained This Time Of Life For Sterility?

I Am Grown Old, And Have Possibly Lost A Great Deal Of That Fire, Which Formerly Made Me Love Fire In Others At Any Rate, And However Attended With Smoke: But Now I Must Have All Sense, And Cannot, For The Sake Of Five Righteous Lines, Forgive A Thousand Absurd Ones.