Beauty, Without Kindness, Dies Unenjoyed And Undelighting.

A Translator Is To Be Like His Author; It Is Not His Business To Excel Him.

The Public Pleasures Of Far The Greater Part Of Mankind Are Counterfeit.

We All Live Upon The Hope Of Pleasing Somebody, And The Pleasure Of Pleasing Ought To Be Greatest, And At Last Always Will Be Greatest, When Our Endeavours Are Exerted In Consequence Of Our Duty.

How Gloomy Would Be The Mansions Of The Dead To Him Who Did Not Know That He Should Never Die: That What Now Acts Shall Continue Its Agency, And What Now Thinks Shall Think On Forever!

Men, However Distinguished By External Accidents Or Intrinsick Qualities, Have All The Same Wants, The Same Pains, And, As Far As The Senses Are Consulted, The Same Pleasures.