This Is My History; Like

Round Numbers Are Always False.

No Wonder, Sir, That He Is Vain; A Man Who Is Perpetually Flattered In Every Mode That Can Be Conceived. So Many Bellows Have Blown The Fire, That One Wonders He Is Not By This Time Become A Cinder.

A Fishing Rod Is A Stick With A Hook At One End And A Fool At The Other.

Every Other Enjoyment Malice May Destroy; Every Other Panegyric Envy May Withhold; But No Human Power Can Deprive The Boaster Of His Own Encomiums.

Conjecture As To Things Useful, Is Good; But Conjecture As To What It Would Be Useless To Know, Is Very Idle.