But The Desire Of Obtaining

The Theologian May Indulge The Pleasing Task Of Describing Religion As She Descended From Heaven, Arrayed In Her Native Purity. A More Melancholy Duty Is Imposed On The Historian. He Must Discover The Inevitable Mixture Of Error And Corruption Which She Contracted In A Long Residence Upon Earth, Among A Weak And Degenerate Race Of Beings.

The Communication Of Ideas Requires A Similitude Of Thought And Language . . .

In The Field Of Controversy I Always Pity The Moderate Party, Who Stand On The Open Middle Ground Exposed To The Fire Of Both Sides.

I Will Not Dissemble The First Emotions Of Joy On The Recovery Of My Freedom, And, Perhaps, The Establishment Of My Fame. But My Pride Was Soon Humbled, And A Sober Melancholy Was Spread Over My Mind, By The Idea That I Had Taken An Everlasting Leave Of An Old And Agreeable Companion, And That Whatsoever Might Be The Future Date Of My History, The Life Of The Historian Must Be Short And Precarious.

Where Error Is Irreparable, Repentance Is Useless.