To Read, Write, And Converse

Curiosity Is, In Great And Generous Minds, The First Passion And The Last; And Perhaps Always Predominates In Proportion To The Strength Of The Contemplative Faculties. He Who Easily Comprehends All That Is Before Him, And Soon Exhausts Any Single Subject, Is Always Eager For New Inquiries; And In Proportion As The Intellectual Eye Takes In A Wider Prospect, It Must Be Gratified With Variety, By More Rapid Flights And Bolder Excursions.

Poetry Cannot Be Translated; And, Therefore, It Is The Poets That Preserve The Languages; For We Would Not Be At The Trouble To Learn A Language If We Could Have All That Is Written In It Just As Well In A Translation. But As The Beauties Of Poetry Cannot Be Preserved In Any Language Except That In Which It Was Originally Written, We Learn The Language.

Every Class Of Society Has Its Cant Of Lamentation, Which Is Understood Or Regarded By None But Themselves; And Every Part Of Life Has Its Uneasiness, Which Those Who Do Not Feel Them Will Not Commiserate. An Event Which Spreads Distraction Over Half The Commercial World, Assembles The Trading Companies In Councils And Committees, And Shakes The Nerves Of A Thousand Stockjobbers, Is Read By The Landlord And The Farmer With Frigid Indifference.

Hunting Was The Labour Of The Savages Of North America, But The Amusement Of The Gentlemen Of England.

No Man Is Much Regarded By The Rest Of The World. He That Considers How Little He Dwells Upon The Condition Of Others, Will Learn How Little The Attention Of Others Is Attracted By Himself. While We See Multitudes Passing Before Us, Of Whom Perhaps Not One Appears To Deserve Our Notice Or Excites Our Sympathy, We Should Remember, That We Likewise Are Lost In The Same Throng, That The Eye Which Happens To Glance Upon Us Is Turned In A Moment On Him That Follows Us, And That The Utmost Which We Can Reasonably Hope Or Fear Is To Fill A Vacant Hour With Prattle, And Be Forgotten.