We Are In Truth, More

I Look Upon Indolence As A Sort Of Suicide; For The Man Is Effectually Destroyed, Though The Appetites Of The Brute May Survive.

Any Affectation Whatsoever In Dress Implies, In My Mind, A Flaw In The Understanding.

One Man Affirms That He Has Rode Post A Hundred Miles In Six Hours; Probably It Is A Lie; But Supposing It To Be True, What Then? Why, He Is A Very Good Post-boy; That Is All. Another Asserts, And Probably Not Without Oaths, That He Has Drunk Six Or Eight Bottles Of Wine At A Sitting; Out Of Charity I Will Believe Him A Liar; For If I Do Not, I Must Think Him A Beast.

Prepare Yourself For The World, As Athletes Used To Do For Their Exercises; Oil Your Mind And Your Manners, To Give Them The Necessary Suppleness And Flexibility; Strength Alone Will Not Do.

A Foreign Minister, I Will Maintain It, Can Never Be A Good Man Of Business If He Is Not An Agreeable Man Of Pleasure Too. Half His Business Is Done By The Help Of His Pleasures: His Views Are Carried On, And Perhaps Best, And Most Unsuspectedly, At Balls, Suppers, Assemblies, And Parties Of Pleasure; By Intrigues With Women, And Connections Insensibly Formed With Men, At Those Unguarded Hours Of Amusement.