Men Hate More Steadily Than They Love.

To Forget, Or Pretend To Do So, To Return A Borrowed Article, Is The Meanest Sort Of Petty Theft.

Our Supple Tribes Repress Their Patriot Throats, And Ask No Questions But The Price Of Votes.

That There Is Something In Advice Very Useful And Salutary, Seems To Be Equally Confessed On All Hands; Since Even Those That Reject It, Allow For The Most Part That Rejection To Be Wrong, But Charge The Fault Upon The Unskilful Manner In Which It Is Given; They Admit The Efficacy Of The Medicine, But Abhor The Nauseousness Of The Vehicle.

Language Is The Dress Of Thought; And As The Noblest Mien Or Most Graceful Action Would Be Degraded And Obscured By A Garb Appropriated To The Gross Employments Of Rusticks Or Mechanics, So The Most Heroick Sentiments Will Lose Their Efficacy

I Do Not Wonder That, Where The Monastick Life Is Permitted, Every Order Finds Votaries, And Every Monastery Inhabitants. Men Will Submit To Any Rule, By Which They May Be Exempted From The Tyranny Of Caprice And Of Chance. They Are Glad To Supply By External Authority Their Own Want Of Constancy And Resolution, And Court The Government Of Others, When Long Experience Has Convinced Them Of Their Own Inability To Govern Themselves.