I Sometimes Give Myself Admirable Advice, But

A Learned Parson, Rusting In His Cell At Oxford Or Cambridge, Will Reason Admirably Well Upon The Nature Of Man; Will Profoundly Analyze The Head, The Heart, The Reason, The Will, The Passions, The Senses, The Sentiments, And All Those Subdivisions Of We Know Not What ; And Yet, Unfortunately, He Knows Nothing Of Man... He Views Man As He Does Colours In Sir Isaac Newton's Prism, Where Only The Capital Ones Are Seen; But An Experienced Dyer Knows All Their Various Shades And Gradations, Together With The Result Of Their Several Mixtures.

At Any Age We Must Cherish Illusions, Consolatory Or Merely Pleasant; In Youth, They Are Omnipresent; In Old Age We Must Search For Them, Or Even Invent Them. But With All That, Boredom Is Their Natural And Inevitable Accompaniment.

To Write Anything Tolerable, The Mind Must Be In A Natural, Proper Disposition; Provocatives, In That Case, As Well As In Another,will Only Produce Miserable, Abortive Performances.

Either A Good Or A Bad Reputation Outruns And Gets Before People Wherever They Go.

Many New Years You May See, But Happy Ones You Cannot See Without Deserving Them. These Virtue, Honor, And Knowledge Alone Can Merit, Alone Can Produce.