Nothing Concentrates One's Mind So Much As

The Fiction Of Happiness Is Propagated By Every Tongue And Confirmed By Every Look Till At Last All Profess The Joy Which They Do Not Feel And Consent To Yield To The General Delusion.

Poetry Is The Art Of Uniting Pleasure With Truth.

No Man Is Defeated Without Some Resentment Which Will Be Continued With Obstinacy While He Believes Himself In The Right, And Asserted With Bitterness, If Even To His Own Conscience He Is Detected In The Wrong.

A Soldier's Time Is Passed In Distress And Danger, Or In Idleness And Corruption.

If We Require More Perfection From Women Than From Ourselves, It Is Doing Them Honor.