Why is it that so many of us persist in thinking that autumn is a sad season? Nature has merely fallen asleep, and her dreams must be beautiful if we are to judge by her countenance.

Is duty a mere sport, or an employ! Life an entrusted talent or a toy!

If you would stand well with a great mind, leave him with a favorable impression of yourself; if with a little mind, leave him with a favorable impression of himself.

With no other privilege than that of sympathy and sincere good wishes, I would address an affectionate exhortation to the youthful literati, grounded on my own experience. It will be but short; for the beginning, middle, and end converge to one charge: NEVER PURSUE LITERATURE AS A TRADE.

My case is a species of madness, only that it is a derangement of the Volition, and not of the intellectual faculties.

Common sense in an uncommon degree is what the world calls wisdom.

Tranquillity! thou better name Than all the family of Fame.