Things Are Not Bad In

What Kind Of Truth Is It Which Has These Mountains As Its Boundary And Is A Lie Beyond Them?

I Have Often Seen People Uncivil By Too Much Civility, And Tiresome In Their Courtesy.

The Receipts Of Cookery Are Swelled To A Volume, But A Good Stomach Excels Them All; To Which Nothing Contributes More Than Industry And Temperance.

A Young Man Ought To Cross His Own Rules, To Awake His Vigor, And To Keep It From Growing Faint And Rusty. And There Is No Course Of Life So Weak And Sottish As That Which Is Carried On By Rule And Discipline.

We Commend A Horse For His Strength, And Sureness Of Foot, And Not For His Rich Caparisons; A Greyhound For His Share Of Heels, Not For His Fine Collar; A Hawk For Her Wing, Not For Her Jesses And Bells. Why, In Like Manner, Do We Not Value A Man For What Is Properly His Own? He Has A Great Train, A Beautiful Palace, So Much Credit, So Many Thousand Pounds A Year, And All These Are About Him, But Not In Him.