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.
There is indeed a strange prejudice against Quotation.
I find I journalize too tediously. Let me try to abbreviate.
I went to my father's at night. He spoke of poor John [Boswell's brother] with disgust. I was shocked and said, "He's your son, and God made him." He answered very harshly, "If my sons are idiots, can I help it?
I suppose no person ever enjoyed with more relish the infusion of that fragrant leaf than Johnson.
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