I Argued That The Chastity

It Is Not Every Man Who Can Be Exquisitely Miserable, Any More Than Exquisitely Happy.

Wine Makes A Man Better Pleased With Himself. I Do Not Say That It Makes Him More Pleasing To Others. Sometimes It Does. But The Danger Is, That While A Man Grows Better Pleased With Himself, He May Be Growing Less Pleasing To Others. Wine Gives A Man Nothing. It Neither Gives Him Knowledge Nor Wit; It Only Animates A Man, And Enables Him To Bring Out What A Dread Of The Company Has Presented.

Why Should Not The Knowledge, The Skill, The Expertness, The Assiduity, And The Spirited Hazards Of Trade And Commerce, When Crowned With Success, Be Entitled To Give Those Flattering Distinctions By Which Mankind Are So Universally Captivated? Such Are The Specious, But False Arguments For A Proposition Which Always Will Find Numerous Advocates, In A Nation Where Men Are Every Day Starting Up From Obscurity To Wealth. To Refute Them Is Needless. The General Sense Of Mankind Cries Out, With Irresistible Force, "un Gentilhomme Est Toujours Gentilhomme.

I Fancy Mankind May Come, In Time, To Write All Aphoristically.

Writing A Book I Have Found To Be Like Building A House. A Man Forms A Plan, And Collects Materials. He Thinks He Has Enough To Raise A Large And Stately Edifice; But After He Has Arranged, Compacted And Polished, His Work Turns Out To Be A Very Small Performance. The Authour However Like The Builder, Knows How Much Labour His Work Has Cost Him; And Therefore Estimates It At A Higher Rate Than Other People Think It Deserves