There seems to be a strange affectation in authors of appearing to have done everything by chance.

Nothing is more common than mutual dislike, where mutual approbation is particularly expected.

An author places himself uncalled before the tribunal of criticism and solicits fame at the hazard of disgrace.

An exotic and irrational entertainment.

The authors that in any nation last from age to age are very few, because there are very few that have any other claim to notice than that they catch hold on present curiosity, and gratify some accidental desire, or produce some temporary conveniency.

There is nothing more dreadful to an author than neglect; compared with which reproach, hatred, and opposition are names of happiness; yet this worst, this meanest fate, every one who dares to write has reason to fear.

Fine clothes are good only as they supply the want of other means of procuring respect.