No More Learning

As a man, I shrink from notice and regard; the ebb and
flow of the world vexes me; I desire to be left in peace. Persecution,
contumely, and calumny have been heaped upon me in profuse measure;
and domestic conspiracy and legal oppression have violated in my
person the most sacred rights of nature and humanity. The bigot will
say it was the recompense of my errors; the man of the world will call
it the result of my imprudence; but never upon one head. . .

. . . Reviewers, with some rare exceptions, are a most stupid and
malignant race. As a bankrupt thief turns thieftaker in despair, so an
unsuccessful author turns critic. But a young spirit panting for fame,
doubtful of its powers, and certain only of its aspirations, is ill
qualified to assign its true value to the sneer of this world. He
knows not that such stuff as this is of the abortive and monstrous
births which time consumes as fast as it produces. He sees the truth
and falsehood, the merits and demerits, of his case inextricably
entangled. . .
No personal offence should have drawn from me this public
comment upon such stuff. . .

. . . The offence of this poor victim seems to have consisted solely in
his intimacy with Leigh Hunt, Mr. Hazlitt, and some other enemies of
despotism and superstition. My friend Hunt has a very hard skull to
crack, and will take a deal of killing. I do not know much of Mr.
Hazlitt, but. . .

. . .