In All The Silent Manliness Of Grief.

There Is One Way By Which A Strolling Player May Be Ever Secure Of Success; That Is, In Our Theatrical Way Of Expressing It, To Make A Great Deal Of The Character. To Speak And Act As In Common Life Is Not Playing, Nor Is It What People Come To See; Natural Speaking, Like Sweet Wine, Runs Glibly Over The Palate And Scarcely Leaves Any Taste Behind It; But Being High In A Part Resembles Vinegar, Which Grates Upon The Taste, And One Feels It While He Is Drinking.

To A Philosopher No Circumstance, However Trifling, Is Too Minute.

The More Various Our Artificial Necessities, The Wider Is Our Circle Of Pleasure; For All Pleasure Consists In Obviating Necessities As They Rise; Luxury, Therefore, As It Increases Our Wants, Increases Our Capacity For Happiness

Though Very Poor, May Still Be Very Blest.

Vain, Very Vain, My Weary Search To Find That Bliss Which Only Centers In The Mind.