The Relief Of Enemies Has

Language Is The Dress Of Thought; Every Time You Talk Your Mind Is On Parade.

The Stream Of Time, Which Is Continually Washing The Dissoluble Fabrics Of Other Poets, Passes Without Injury By The Adamant Of Shakespeare.

Every Man Speaks And Writes With Intent To Be Understood; And It Can Seldom Happen But He That Understands Himself, Might Convey His Notions To Another, If, Content To Be Understood, He Did Not Seek To Be Admired; But When Once He Begins To Contrive How His Sentiments May Be Received, Not With Most Ease To His Reader, But With Most Advantage To Himself, He Then Transfers His Consideration From Words To Sounds, From Sentences To Periods, And, As He Grows More Elegant, Becomes Less Intelligible.

When Any Calamity Is Suffered, The First Thing To Be Remembered Is, How Much Has Been Escaped.

Most Men Think Indistinctly, And Therefore Cannot Speak With Exactness . . .