Modern Writers Are The Moons

When Any Fit Of Gloominess, Or Perversion Of Mind, Lays Hold Upon You, Make It A Rule Not To Publish It By Complaints, But Exert Your Whole Care To Hide It; By Endeavouring To Hide It; You Will Dry It Away. Be Always Busy.

It May Be Observed In General That The Future Is Purchased By The Present. It Is Not Possible To Secure Distant Or Permanent Happiness But By The Forbearance Of Some Immediate Gratification. This Is So Evidently True With Regard To The Whole Of Our Existence That All Precepts Of Theology Have No Other Tendency Than To Enforce A Life Of Faith; A Life Regulated Not By Our Senses But By Our Belief; A Life In Which Pleasures Are To Be Refused For Fear Of Invisible Punishments, And Calamities Sometimes To Be Sought, And Always Endured, In Hope Of Rewards That Shall Be Obtained In Another State.

If Lawyers Were To Undertake No Causes Till They Were Sure They Were Just, A Man Might Be Precluded Altogether From A Trial Of His Claim, Though, Were It Judicially Examined, It Might Be Found A Very Just Claim.

He That Condemns Himself To Compose On A Stated Day Will Often Bring To His Task Attention Dissipated, A Memory Embarrassed, An Imagination Overwhelmed, A Mind Distracted With Anxieties, A Body Languishing With Disease: He Will Labour On A Barren Topic Till It Is Too Late To Change It; Or, In The Ardour Of Invention, Diffuse His Thoughts Into Wild Exuberance, Which The Pressing Hour Of Publication Cannot Suffer Judgment To Examine Or Reduce.

Being Married To Those Sleepy-souled Women Is Just Like Playing At Cards For Nothing: No Passion Is Excited And The Time Is Filled Up. I Do Not, However, Envy A Fellow One Of Those Honeysuckle Wives For My Part, As They Are But Creepers At Best And Commonly Destroy The Tree They So Tenderly Cling About.