What A Glut Of Books! Who Can

We Can Make Mayors And Officers Every Year, But Not Scholars.

Let Thy Fortune Be What It Will, 'tis Thy Mind Alone That Makes Thee Poor Or Rich, Miserable Or Happy.

Worldly Wealth Is The Devil's Bait; And Those Whose Minds Feed Upon Riches Recede, In General, From Real Happiness, In Proportion As Their Stores Increase, As The Moon, When She Is Fullest, Is Farthest From The Sun.

No Rule Is So General, Which Admits Not Some Exception.

If You Like Not My Writing, Go Read Something Else.