It Is The Condition Of Our Present

The Usual Fortune Of Complaint Is To Excite Contempt More Than Pity.

I Am Far From Any Intention To Limit Curiosity, Or Confine The Labours Of Learning To Arts Of Immediate And Necessary Use. It Is Only From The Various Essays Of Experimental Industry, And The Vague Excursions Of Mind Set Upon Discovery, That Any Advancement Of Knowledge Can Be Expected; And Though Many Must Be Disappointed In Their Labours, Yet They Are Not To Be Charged With Having Spent Their Time In Vain; Their Example Contributed To Inspire Emulation, And Their Miscarriage Taught Others The Way To Success.

No Degree Of Knowledge Attainable By Man Is Able To Set Him Above The Want Of Hourly Assistance.

Piety Is The Only Proper And Adequate Relief Of Decaying Man. He That Grows Old Without Religions Hopes, As He Declines Into Imbecility, And Feels Pains And Sorrows Incessantly Crowding Upon Him, Falls Into A Gulf Of Bottomless Misery, In Which Every Reflection Must Plunge Him Deeper And Deeper.

I Inherited A Vile Melancholy From My Father, Which Has Made Me Mad All My Life, At Least Not Sober.