Sir, A Man Who Cannot Get To

In My Early Years I Read Very Hard. It Is A Sad Reflection, But A True One, That I Knew Almost As Much At Eighteen As I Do Now.

As Long As One Lives He Will Have Need Of Repentance.

Nay, Sir, Those Who Write In Them, Write Well, In Order To Be Paid Well.

It Ought To Be The First Endeavour Of A Writer To Distinguish Nature From Custom; Or That Which Is Established Because It Is Right, From That Which Is Right Only Because It Is Established; That He May Neither Violate Essential Principles By A Desire Of Novelty, Nor Debar Himself From The Attainment Of Beauties Within His View, By A Needless Fear Of Breaking Rules Which No Literary Dictator Had Authority To Enact.

Ignorance, Madam, Pure Ignorance.