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Associates. — Fuller.

ASSOCIATE with Men of good Judgment: for Judgment is found in Conversation. And we make another Man's Judgment ours, by frequenting his Company.

Associates. — Shakspeare.

THOU art noble; yet, I see,

Thy honourable Metal may be wrought
From that it is disposed. Therefore 'tis meet
That noble Minds keep ever with their Likes :
For who so firm, that cannot be seduced?

Astronomy. — Cicero.

THE contemplation of Celestial Things will make a Man both speak and think more sublimely and magnificently when he descends to human affairs.

Atheism. — Hare.

THERE is no being eloquent for Atheism. In that exhausted receiver the Mind cannot use its wings,-the clearest proof that it is out of its element.

Atheism. Lord Herbert of Cherbury. WHOEVER considers the Study of Anatomy, I believe, will never be an Atheist; the frame of Man's Body, and Coherence of his Parts, being so strange and paradoxical, that I hold it to be the greatest Miracle of Nature.

Atheism. Washington Allston.

THE atheist may speculate, and go on speculating till he is brought up by annihilation; he may then return to life, and reason away the difference between good and evil; he may even go further, and imagine to himself the perpetration of the most atrocious acts; and still he may eat his bread with relish, and sleep soundly in his bed; for his sins, wanting as it were substance, having no actual solidity to leave their traces in his memory, all future retribution may seem to him a thing with which, in any event, he can have no concern; but let him once turn his theory to practicelet him make crime palpable—in an instant he feels its hot impress on his soul.

Authority. Shakspeare.

THOUGH Authority be a stubborn bear, yet he is oft led by the nose with gold.

Authority. Shakspeare.
AUTHORITY, though it err like others,
Hath yet a kind of Med'cine in itself,
That skins the vice o' the top.

Authority. Shakspeare.

O PLACE! O Form!
How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit,
Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls
To thy false seeming?

Authority. Shakspeare.

AUTHORITY bears a credent bulk,

That no particular scandal one can touch,
But it confounds the breather.

Authors. — Johnson.

PEOPLE may be taken in once, who imagine that an Author is greater in private life than other Men.

Authors. — Longfellow.

THE motives and purposes of authors are not always so pure and high, as, in the enthusiasm of youth, we sometimes imagine. To many the trumpet of fame is nothing but a tin horn to call them home, like laborers from the field, at dinner-time, and they think themselves lucky to get the dinner.

Authors. Colton.

IT is a doubt whether Mankind are most indebted to those who, like Bacon and Butler, dig the gold from the mine of Literature, or to those who, like Paley, purify it, stamp it, fix its real value, and give it currency and utility. For all the practical purposes of Life, Truth might as well be in a prison as in the folio of a Schoolman, and those who release her from her cobwebbed shelf, and teach her to live with Men, have the merit of liberating, if not of discovering her.

Authors. Sir Egerton Brydges. AUTHORS have not always the power or habit of throwing their talents into conversation. There are some very just and well-expressed observations on this point in Johnson's Life of Dryden, who was said not at all to answer in this respect the Character of his Genius. I have observed that vulgar readers almost always lose their veneration for the writings of the Genius with whom they have had personal intercourse.

Authors. Colton.

THE Society of dead Authors has this advantage over that of the living; they never flatter us to our faces, nor slander us behind our backs, nor intrude upon our privacy, nor quit their shelves until we take them down. Besides, it is always easy to shut a Book, but not quite so easy to get rid of a lettered Coxcomb.

Authors.- Byron.

BUT every Fool describes in these bright days
His wondrous Journey to some foreign Court,
And spawns his Quarto, and demands your praise.
Authors. — Young.

SOME write, confined by Physic; some, by Debt;
Some, for 'tis Sunday; some, because 'tis wet;
Another writes because his Father writ,
And proves himself a Bastard by his Wit.

Authors. — Byron.

HE had written Praises of a Regicide;

He had written Praises of all Kings whatever;
He had written for Republics far and wide,
And then against them bitterer than ever.
Authors. — Butler.

MUCH thou hast said, which I know when
And where thou stol'st from other Men
Whereby 'tis plain thy Light and Gifts
Are all but plagiary Shifts.

Authors. Cowper.

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AND Novels (witness every Month's Review)
Belie their Name and offer nothing new.

Authors. Johnson.

SUCCESS and Miscarriage have the same effects in all conditions. The prosperous are feared, hated, and flattered; and the unfortunate avoided, pitied, and despised. No sooner is a Book published, than the Writer may judge of the opinion of the World. If his Acquaintance press round him in public Places, or salute him from the other side of the Street; if Invitations to dinner come thick upon him, and those with whom he dines keep him to Supper; if the Ladies turn to him when his coat is plain, and the Footmen serve him with attention and alacrity; he may be sure that his Work has been praised by some Leader of literary Fashions.

Authors. — Byron.

ONE hates an Author that's all Author, Fellows

In Foolscap uniforms turn'd up with ink,

So very anxious, clever, fine, and jealous,

One don't know what to say to them, or think,

Unless to puff them with a pair of bellows:

Of Coxcombry's worst Coxcombs, e'en the Pink
Are preferable to these shreds of paper,

These unquench'd snuffings of the midnight taper.

Authors.

Spenser.

HOW many great Ones may remember'd be,

Which in their days most famously did flourish,
Of whom no word we hear, nor Sign now see,
But as things wip'd out with a spunge do perish,
Because the living cared not to cherish

No gentle Wits, through pride or covetize,
Which might their Names for ever memorize!
Authors. Cowper.

NONE but an Author knows an Author's cares,
Or Fancy's fondness for the child she bears.
Autumn. Spenser.

THEN came the Autumne, all in Yellow clad,
As though he joyed in his plenteous store,
Laden with Fruits that made him laugh, full glad
That he bad banisht Hunger, which to-fore
Had by the belly oft him pinched sore;
Upon his Head a Wreath, that was enrold
With ears of Corne of every sort, he bore,
And in his Hand a Sickle he did holde,

To reape the ripened Fruit the which the Earth had yold.
Autumn. Thomson.

FLED is the blasted Verdure of the Fields;

And shrunk into their Beds, the flowery Race
Their sunny robes resign. Even what remain'd
Of stronger Fruits falls from the naked Tree;
And Woods, Fields, Gardens, Orchards, all around
The desolated prospect thrills the soul.

Avarice. — Hughes.

IT may be remarked for the comfort of honest Poverty, that Avarice reigns most in those who have but few good Qualities to recommend them. This is a Weed that will grow in a barren Soil.

Avarice.- Moore.

THE Love of Gold, that meanest rage,

And latest folly of Man's sinking age,
Which, rarely venturing in the van of life,
While nobler passions wage their heated strife,
Comes skulking last, with Selfishness and Fear,
And dies, collecting lumber in the rear!

Abarice.-Pope.

RICHES, like Insects, when conceal'd they lie,
Wait but for wings, and in their season fly.
Who sees pale Mammon pine amidst his store,

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Sees but a backward steward for the poor;
This year, a reservoir, to keep and spare;

The next, a fountain, spouting through his heir,
In lavish Streams to quench a Country's thirst,
And men and dogs shall drink him till they burst.
Avarice. Pope.

W

EALTH in the gross is death, but Life diffused;
As Poison heals, in just proportion used:
In Heaps, like Ambergris, a Stink it lies,
But well dispersed, is Incense to the Skies.
Avarice. Blair.

CURSED Lust of Gold: when for thy sake
The Fool throws up his interest in both worlds,
First starved in this, then damn'd in that to come.
Avarice. Spenser.

AND greedy Avarice by him did ride
Upon a Camell loaden all with Gold:
Two Iron Coffers hong on either side,
With precious Metall full as they might hold,
And in his Lap an Heap of Coine he told;
For of his wicked Pelf his God he made,
And unto Hell him selfe for Money sold;
Accursed Usury was all his Trade,

And Right and Wrong ylike in equall Ballaunce waide.
His Life was nigh unto Death's Dore yplaste;
And thred-bare Cote and cobled Shoes he ware,
Ne scarse good Morsell all his Life did taste,
But both from Backe and Belly still did spare,
To fill his bags, and Richesse to compare:
Yet Childe nor Kinsman living had he none
To leave them to; but, thorough daily care
To get, and nightly feare to loose his owne,
He led a wretched life unto himself unknowne.

Avarice. - La Rochefoucauld.

A VARICE often produces opposite effects; there is an infinite number of People who sacrifice all their property to doubtful and distant Expectations; others despise great future Advantages to obtain present Interests of a trifling nature.

Avarice. La Rochefoucauld.

EXTREME Avarice almost always mistakes itself; there is no Passion which more often deprives itself of its Object, nor on which the Present exercises so much Power to the prejudice of the Future.

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