It would appear that it is requisite for the body to be active and springing as the mind; and if it is not, it weighs the latter down to its own gravity.

Who ever heard of a fat man being ambitious?
Caesar was a spare man; Buonaparte was thin as long as he climbed the ladder; Nelson was a shadow.

The Duke of Wellington has not sufficient fat in his composition to grease his own Wellington-boots.

In short, I think my hypothesis to be fairly borne out, that fat and ambition are incompatible.
It is very melancholy to be forced to acknowledge this, for I am convinced that it may be of serious injury to my works.

An author with a genteel figure will always be more read than one who is corpulent.