Of All The Old Festivals,

The Great British Library --an Immense Collection Of Volumes Of All Ages And Languages, Many Of Which Are Now Forgotten, And Most Of Which Are Seldom Read: One Of These Sequestered Pools Of Obsolete Literature To Which Modern Authors Repair, And Draw Buckets Full Of Classic Lore, Or Pure English, Undefiled Wherewith To Swell Their Own Scanty Rills Of Thought.

Speculation Is The Romance Of Trade, And Casts Contempt Upon On All Its Sober Realities. It Renders The Stock-jobber A Magician, And The Exchange A Region Of Enchantment.

History Is But A Kind Of Newgate Calendar, A Register Of The Crimes And Miseries That Man Has Inflicted On His Fellow-man.

A Woman Is More Considerate In Affairs Of Love Than A Man; Because Love Is More The Study And Business Of Her Life.

There's Nothing Like Being In Fashion. A Man That Has Once Got His Character Up For A Wit Is Always Sure Of A Laugh, Say What He May. He May Utter As Much Nonsense As He Pleases, And All Will Pass Current. No One Stops To Question The Coin Of A Rich Man; But A Poor Devil Cannot Pass Off Either A Joke Or A Guinea Without Its Being Examined On Both Sides. Wit And Coin Are Always Doubted With A Threadbare Coat.