A Man Has No More

The Prospect Of Penury In Age Is So Gloomy And Terrifying That Every Man Who Looks Before Him Must Resolve To Avoid It; And It Must Be Avoided Generally By The Science Of Sparing.

We Are All Prompted By The Same Motives, All Deceived By The Same Fallacies, All Animated By Hope, Obstructed By Danger, Entangled By Desire, And Seduced By Pleasure.

The Task Of An Author Is, Either To Teach What Is Not Known, Or To Recommend Known Truths By His Manner Of Adorning Them; Either To Let New Light In Upon The Mind, And Open New Scenes To The Prospect, Or To Vary The Dress And Situation Of Common Objects, So As To Give Them Fresh Grace And More Powerful Attractions, To Spread Such Flowers Over The Regions Through Which The Intellect Has Already Made Its Progress, As May Tempt It To Return, And Take A Second View Of Things Hastily Passed Over, Or Negligently Regarded.

For Life Affords No Higher Pleasure, Than That Of Surmounting Difficulties, Passing From One Step Of Success To Another, Forming New Wishes And Seeing Them Gratified. He That Labours In Any Great Or Laudable Undertaking, Has His Fatigues First Supported By Hope, And Afterwards Rewarded By Joy... To Strive With Difficulties, And To Conquer Them, Is The Highest Human Felicity.

New Arts Are Long In The World Before Poets Describe Them; For They Borrow Everything From Their Predecessors, And Commonly Derive Very Little From Nature Or From Life.