Labor, If It Were Not

The Mind Is Refrigerated By Interruption; The Thoughts Are Diverted From The Principle Subject; The Reader Is Weary, He Suspects Not Why; And At Last Throws Away The Book, Which He Has Too Diligently Studied.

There Are Occasions On Which All Apology Is Rudeness.

Much Is Due To Those Who First Broke The Way To Knowledge, And Left Only To Their Successors The Task Of Smoothing It.

Words Too Familiar, Or Too Remote, Defeat The Purpose Of A Poet.

The Perfect Day For Quitting Is Not Real. It Will Never Come, So Might As Well Start Today