When There Is No Hope, There Can

It Is Very Strange, And Very Melancholy, That The Paucity Of Human Pleasures Should Persuade Us Ever To Call Hunting One Of Them.

Invention Is Almost The Only Literary Labour Which Blindness Cannot Obstruct.

The Trade Of Advertising Is Now So Near To Perfection That It Is Not Easy To Propose Any Improvement. But As Every Art Ought To Be Exercized In Due Subordination To The Public Good, I Cannot But Propose It As A Moral Question To These Masters Of The Public Ear, Whether They Do Not Sometimes Play Too Wantonly With Our Passions.

In His Comic Scenes, Shakespeare Seems To Produce, Without Labor, What No Labor Can Improve.

There Is No Wisdom In Useless And Hopeless Sorrow.