If I Am Wrong, I

There Is Something In The Eloquence Of The Pulpit, When It Is Really Eloquence, Which Is Entitled To The Highest Praise And Honour. The Preacher Who Can Touch And Affect Such An Heterogeneous Mass Of Hearers, On Subjects Limited, And Long Worn Thread-bare In All Common Hands; Who Can Say Any Thing New Or Striking, Any Thing That Rouses The Attention, Without Offending The Taste, Or Wearing Out The Feelings Of His Hearers, Is A Man Whom One Could Not (in His Public Capacity) Honour Enough.

You Ought Certainly To Forgive Them As A Christian, But Never To Admit Them In Your Sight, Or Allow Their Names To Be Mentioned In Your Hearing.

Children Of The Same Family, The Same Blood, With The Same First Associations And Habits, Have Some Means Of Enjoyment In Their Power, Which No Subsequent Connections Can Supply.

I Can Always Live By My Pen.

One Half Of The World Cannot Understand The Pleasures Of The Other.