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When Griefs Are Genuine, I Find, There Is Nothing More Vacuous, More Burdensome, Or Even More Impertinent, Than Letters Of Consolation.

The Manner Of A Vulgar Man Has Freedom Without Ease, And The Manner Of A Gentleman Has Ease Without Freedom.

In Friendship, As Well As In Love, The Mind Is Often The Dupe Of The Heart.

Six, Or At Most Seven, Hours' Sleep Is, For A Constancy, As Much As You Or Anybody Else Can Want; More Is Only Laziness And Dozing, And Is, I Am Persuaded, Both Unwholesome And Stupefying.

You Must Embrace The Man You Hate, If You Cannot Be Justified In Knocking Him Down.