The Fortune Of Nations Has

These Idle Disputants Overlooked The Invariable Laws Of Nature, Which Have Connected Peace With Innocence, Plenty With Industry, And Safety With Valour.

The Sectaries Of A Persecuted Religion, Depressed By Fear, Animated With Resentment, And Perhaps Heated By Enthusiasm, Are Seldom In A Proper Temper Of Mind Calmly To Investigate, Or Candidly To Appreciate, The Motives Of Their Enemies, Which Often Escape The Impartial And Discerning View Even Of Those Who Are Placed At A Secure Distance From The Flames Of Persecution.

Boethius Might Have Been Styled Happy, If That Precarious Epithet Could Be Safely Applied Before The Last Term Of The Life Of Man.

Books Are Those Faithful Mirrors That Reflect To Our Mind The Minds Of Sages And Heroes.

The Germans, In The Age Of Tacitus, Were Unacquainted With The Use Of Letters; And The Use Of Letters Is The Principal Circumstance That Distinguishes A Civilised People From A Herd Of Savages Incapable Of Knowledge Or Reflection. Without That Artificial Help, The Human Memory Soon Dissipates Or Corrupts The Ideas Intrusted To Her Charge; And The Nobler Faculties Of The Mind, No Longer Supplied With Models Or With Materials, Gradually Forget Their Powers; The Judgment Becomes Feeble And Lethargic, The Imagination Languid Or Irregular.