My Dear Smollett ... Disgraces

Strictly Speaking, There Is But One Real Evil: I Mean Acute Pain. All Other Complaints Are So Considerably Diminished By Time That It Is Plain The Grief Is Owing To Our Passion, Since The Sensation Of It Vanishes When That Is Over.

People Wish Their Enemies Dead - But I Do Not; I Say Give Them The Gout, Give Them The Stone!

But The Fruit That Can Fall Without Shaking Indeed Is Too Mellow For Me.

It's In No Way My Interest (according To The Common Acceptance Of That Word) To Convince The World Of Their Errors; That Is, I Shall Get Nothing From It But The Private Satisfaction Of Having Done Good To Mankind, And I Know Nobody That Reckons That Satisfaction Any Part Of Their Interest.

No Entertainment Is So Cheap As Reading, Nor Any Pleasure So Lasting. She Will Not Want New Fashions Nor Regret The Loss Of Expensive Diversions Or Variety Of Company If She Can Be Amused With An Author In Her Closet.