It Is 11 Years Since I Have

My Health Is So Often Impaired That I Begin To Be As Weary Of It As Mending Old Lace; When It Is Patched In One Place, It Breaks Out In Another.

Let This Great Maxim Be My Virtue's Guide,- In Part She Is To Blame That Has Been Tried: He Comes Too Near That Comes To Be Denied.

General Notions Are Generally Wrong.

Strictly Speaking, There Is But One Real Evil: I Mean Acute Pain. All Other Complaints Are So Considerably Diminished By Time That It Is Plain The Grief Is Owing To Our Passion, Since The Sensation Of It Vanishes When That Is Over.

Prudent People Are Very Happy; 'tis An Exceeding Fine Thing, That's Certain, But I Was Born Without It, And Shall Retain To My Day Of Death The Humour Of Saying What I Think.