If A Man Who Is Born To

Friendship, "the Wine Of Life," Should, Like A Well-stocked Cellar, Be Continually Renewed.

I Find I Journalize Too Tediously. Let Me Try To Abbreviate.

After I Went To Bed I Had A Curious Fancy As To Dreams. In Sleep The Doors Of The Mind Are Shut, And Thoughts Come Jumping In At The Windows. They Tumble Headlong, And Therefore Are So Disorderly And Strange. Sometimes They Are Stout And Light On Their Feet, And Then They Are Rational Dreams.

My Definition Of Man Is, A Cooking Animal. The Beasts Have Memory, Judgement, And All The Faculties And Passions Of Our Mind, In A Certain Degree; But No Beast Is A Cook....man Alone Can Dress A Good Dish; And Every Man Whatever Is More Or Less A Cook, In Seasoning What He Himself Eats.

My Curiosity To See The Melancholy Spectacle Of The Executions Was So Strong That I Could Not Resist It, Although I Was Sensible That I Would Suffer Much From It.... I Got Upon A Scaffold Near The Fatal Tree So That I Could Clearly See All The Dismal Scene.... I Was Most Terribly Shocked, And Thrown Into A Very Deep Melancholy.