I Would Consent To Have A Limb

Superfluous Lags The Veteran On The Stage, Till Pitying Nature Signs The Last Release, And Bids Afflicted Worth Retire To Peace.

Books Are Faithful Repositories, Which May Be Awhile Neglected Or Forgotten; But When They Are Opened Again, Will Again Impart Their Instruction: Memory, Once Interrupted, Is Not To Be Recalled. Written Learning Is A Fixed Luminary, Which, After The Cloud That Had Hidden It Has Passed Away, Is Again Bright In Its Proper Station. Tradition Is But A Meteor, Which, If Once It Falls, Cannot Be Rekindled.

Men, However Distinguished By External Accidents Or Intrinsick Qualities, Have All The Same Wants, The Same Pains, And, As Far As The Senses Are Consulted, The Same Pleasures.

But To The Particular Species Of Excellence Men Are Directed, Not By An Ascendant Planet Or Predominating Humour, But By The First Book Which They Read, Some Early Conversation Which They Heard, Or Some Accident Which Excited Ardour And Emulation.

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