By Seeing London, I Have

When A Man Is Tried Of London, He Is Tired Of Life.

There Is No Book So Poor That It Would Not Be A Prodigy If Wholly Made By A Single Man.

The Synonyme Of Usury Is Ruin.

No Man Sympathizes With The Sorrows Of Vanity.

Disease Generally Begins That Equality Which Death Completes; The Distinctions Which Set One Man So Much Above Another Are Very Little Perceived In The Gloom Of A Sick Chamber, Where It Will Be Vain To Expect Entertainment From The Gay, Or Instruction From The Wise; Where All Human Glory Is Obliterated, The Wit Is Clouded, The Reasoner Perplexed, And The Hero Subdued; Where The Highest And Brightest Of Mortal Beings Finds Nothing Left Him But The Consciousness Of Innocence.