We Never Do Anything Consciously

Everybody Knows Worse Of Himself Than He Knows Of Other Men.

But To The Particular Species Of Excellence Men Are Directed, Not By An Ascendant Planet Or Predominating Humour, But By The First Book Which They Read, Some Early Conversation Which They Heard, Or Some Accident Which Excited Ardour And Emulation.

Men Who Have Flattered Themselves Into This Opinion Of Their Own Abilities, Look Down On All Who Waste Their Lives Over Books, As A Race Of Inferior Beings Condemned By Nature To Perpetual Pupilage, And Fruitlessly Endeavouring To Remedy Their Barrenness By Incessant Cultivation, Or Succour Their Feebleness By Subsidiary Strength. They Presume That None Would Be More Industrious Than They, If They Were Not More Sensible Of Deficiences; And Readily Conclude, That He Who Places No Confidence In His Own Powers Owes His Modesty Only To His Weakness.

Ignorance Cannot Always Be Inferred From Inaccuracy; Knowledge Is Not Always Present.

That Eminence Of Learning Is Not To Be Gained Without Labour, At Least Equal To That Which Any Other Kind Of Greatness Can Require, Will Be Allowed By Those Who Wish To Elevate The Character Of A Scholar; Since They Cannot But Know That Every Human Acquisition Is Valuable In Proportion To The Difficulty Of Its Attainment.