Our Sympathy Is Cold To

I Will Not Dissemble The First Emotions Of Joy On The Recovery Of My Freedom, And, Perhaps, The Establishment Of My Fame. But My Pride Was Soon Humbled, And A Sober Melancholy Was Spread Over My Mind, By The Idea That I Had Taken An Everlasting Leave Of An Old And Agreeable Companion, And That Whatsoever Might Be The Future Date Of My History, The Life Of The Historian Must Be Short And Precarious.

As For This Young Ali, One Cannot But Like Him. A Noble-minded Creature, As He Shows Himself, Now And Always Afterwards; Full Of Affection, Of Fiery Daring. Something Chivalrous In Him; Brave As A Lion; Yet With A Grace, A Truth And Affection Worthy Of Christian Knighthood.

Yet The People, And Even The Clergy, Incapable Of Forming Any Rational Judgment Of The Business Of Peace And War, Presumed To Arraign The Policy Of Stilicho, Who So Often Vanquished, So Often Surrounded, And So Often Dismissed The Implacable Enemy Of The Republic. The First Moment Of The Public Safety Is Devoted To Gratitude And Joy; But The Second Is Diligently Occupied By Envy And Calumny.

The Pains And Pleasures Of The Body, Howsoever Important To Ourselves, Are An Indelicate Subject Of Conversation

Truth, Naked, Unblushing Truth, The First Virtue Of All Serious History, Must Be The Sole Recommendation Of This Personal Narrative.