It Is Commonly A Weak

Every Man Naturally Persuades Himself That He Can Keep His Resolutions, Nor Is He Convinced Of His Imbecility But By Length Of Time And Frequency Of Experiment.

It Is Not The Desire Of New Acquisitions, But The Glory Of Conquests, That Fires The Soldier's Breast; As Indeed The Town Is Seldom Worth Much, When It Has Suffered The Devastations Of A Siege.

Whatever Withdraws Us From The Power Of Our Senses; Whatever Makes The Past, The Distant, Or The Future Predominate Over The Present, Advances Us In The Dignity Of Thinking Beings.

Luncheon: As Much Food As One's Hand Can Hold.

Whoever Thinks Of Going To Bed Before Twelve O'clock Is A Scoundrel.