That Favorite Subject, Myself.

After I Went To Bed I Had A Curious Fancy As To Dreams. In Sleep The Doors Of The Mind Are Shut, And Thoughts Come Jumping In At The Windows. They Tumble Headlong, And Therefore Are So Disorderly And Strange. Sometimes They Are Stout And Light On Their Feet, And Then They Are Rational Dreams.

O Charitable Philosopher, I Beg You To Help Me. My Mind Is Weak But My Soul Is Strong. Kindle That Soul, And The Sacred Fire Shall Never Be Extinguished.

Addison Writes With The Ease Of A Gentleman. His Readers Fancy That A Wise And Accomplished Companion Is Talking To Them; So Thathe Insinuates His Sentiments And Taste Into Their Minds By An Imperceptible Influence. Johnson Writes Like A Teacher. He Dictates To His Readers As If From An Academical Chair. They Attend With Awe And Admiration; And His Precepts Are Impressed Upon Them By His Commanding Eloquence. Addison's Style, Like A Light Wine, Pleases Everybody From The First. Johnson's, Like A Liquor Of More Body, Seems Too Strong At First, But, By Degrees, Is Highly Relished.

Have A Sense Of Piety Ever On Your Mind, And Be Ever Mindful That This Is Subject To No Change, But Will Last You As Long As Life And Support You In Death. Elevate Your Soul By Prayer And By Contemplation Without Mystical Enthusiasm.

My Definition Of Man Is, A Cooking Animal. The Beasts Have Memory, Judgement, And All The Faculties And Passions Of Our Mind, In A Certain Degree; But No Beast Is A Cook....man Alone Can Dress A Good Dish; And Every Man Whatever Is More Or Less A Cook, In Seasoning What He Himself Eats.