I Should Think Myself A

There Is Not A More Pleasante Exercise Of The Mind Than Gratitude.

Nothing, Says Longinus, Can Be Great, The Contempt Of Which Is Great.

Beauty Commonly Produces Love, But Cleanliness Preserves It. Age Itself Is Not Unamiable While It Is Preserved Clean And Unsullied; Like A Piece Of Metal Constantly Kept Smooth And Bright, We Look On It With More Pleasure Than On A New Vessel Cankered With Rust.

Authors Have Established It As A Kind Of Rule, That A Man Ought To Be Dull Sometimes; As The Most Severe Reader Makes Allowances For Many Rests And Nodding-places In A Voluminous Writer.

Who Does Not More Admire Cicero As An Author Than As A Consul Of Rome?