No Knowledge Is Useless, With The Exception

Every Cold Empirick, When His Heart Is Expanded By A Successful Experiment, Swells Into A Theorist.

A Continual Feast Of Commendation Is Only To Be Obtained By Merit Or By Wealth: Many Are Therefore Obliged To Content Themselves With Single Morsels, And Recompense The Infrequency Of Their Enjoyment By Excess And Riot, Whenever Fortune Sets The Banquet Before Them.

He Is Not Only Dull Himself, But The Cause Of Dulness In Others.

Shakespeare Never Had Six Lines Together Without A Fault. Perhaps You May Find Seven, But This Does Not Refute My General Assertion.

By Those Who Look Close To The Ground Dirt Will Be Seen. I Hope I See Things From A Greater Distance.