Nothing so fretful, so despicable as a Scribbler, see what I am, and what a parcel of Scoundrels I have brought about my ears, and what language I have been obliged to treat them with to deal with them in their own way; — all this comes of Authorship.
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- It is true from early habit, one must make love mechanically as one swims; I was once very fond of both, but now as I never swim unless I tumble into the water, I don’t make love till almost obliged.
- We are all selfish and I no more trust myself than others with a good motive.
- But as to women, who can penetrate the real sufferings of their she condition? Man’s very sympathy with their estate has much of selfishness and more suspicion. Their love, their virtue, beauty, education, but form good housekeepers, to breed a nation.
- In her first passion, a woman loves her lover, in all the others all she loves is love.
- I only go out to get me a fresh appetite for being alone.
- If I am fool, it is, at least, a doubting one; and I envy no one the certainty of his self-approved wisdom.