It Is Not Necessity But

Not Only Does The Wind Of Accidents Stir Me According To Its Blowing, But I Am Also Stirred And Troubled By The Instability Of My Attitude.

We Are, I Know Not How, Double In Ourselves, So That What We Believe We Disbelieve, And Cannot Rid Ourselves Of What We Condemn.

The Strangest, Most Generous, And Proudest Of All Virtues Is True Courage.

To Divert Myself From A Troublesome Fancy, It Is But To Run To My Books; They Presently Fix Me To Them, And Drive The Other Out Of My Thoughts, And Do Not Mutiny To See That I Have Only Recourse To Them For Want Of Other More, Real, Natural, And Lively Conveniences; They Always Receive Me With The Same Kindness.

It Is The Mind That Maketh Good Or Ill, That Maketh Wretch Or Happy, Rich Or Poor.