Every Man Has Some Favorite

Pleasure Is Very Seldom Found Where It Is Sought. Our Brightest Blazes Of Gladness Are Commonly Kindled By Unexpected Sparks. The Flowers Which Scatter Their Odours From Time To Time In The Paths Of Life, Grow Up Without Culture From Seeds Scattered By Chance.

Poverty Has, In Large Cities, Very Different Appearances; It Is Often Concealed In Splendour, And Often In Extravagance.

People May Be Taken In Once, Who Imagine That An Author Is Greater In Private Life Than Other Men.

The Gratification Of Curiosity Rather Frees Us From Uneasiness Than Confers Pleasure; We Are More Pained By Ignorance Than Delighted By Instruction. Curiosity Is The Thirst Of The Soul; It Inflames And Torments Us, And Makes Us Taste Every Thing With Joy, However Otherwise Insipid, By Which It May Be Quenched.

Commerce Can Never Be At A Stop While One Man Wants What Another Can Supply; And Credit Will Never Be Denied, While It Is Likely To Be Repaid With Profit.