Gratitude Is A Burden Upon Our Imperfect

Nothing Sharpens The Arrow Of Sarcasm So Keenly As The Courtesy That Polishes It; No Reproach Is Like That We Clothe With A Smile And Present With A Bow.

Vice, In Its True Light, Is So Deformed, That It Shocks Us At First Sight; And Would Hardly Ever Seduce Us, If It Did Not At First Wear The Mask Of Some Virtue.

The Vulgar Look Upon A Man, Who Is Reckoned A Fine Speaker, As A Phenomenon, A Supernatural Being, And Endowed With Some Peculiargift Of Heaven; They Stare At Him, If He Walks In The Park, And Cry, That Is He. You Will, I Am Sure, View Him In A Juster Light, And Nulla Formidine. You Will Consider Him Only As A Man Of Good Sense, Who Adorns Common Thoughts With The Graces Of Elocution, And The Elegancy Of Style. The Miracle Will Then Cease.

Everything Is Worth Seeing Once, And The More One Sees The Less One Either Wonders Or Admires.

Real Friendship Is A Slow Grower.