A Married Man Has Many Cares, But

Tomorrow Is An Old Deceiver, And His Cheat Never Grows Stale.

In A Man's Letters You Know, Madam, His Soul Lies Naked, His Letters Are Only The Mirror Of His Breast, Whatever Passes Within Him Is Shown Undisguised In Its Natural Process. Nothing Is Inverted, Nothing Distorted, You See Systems In Their Elements, You Discover Actions In Their Motives.

Their Origin Is Commonly Unknown; For The Practice Often Continues When The Cause Has Ceased, And Concerning Superstitious Ceremonies It Is In Vain To Conjecture; For What Reason Did Not Dictate, Reason Cannot Explain.

Ah! Sir, A Boy's Being Flogged Is Not So Severe As A Man's Having The Hiss Of The World Against Him.

Merit Rather Enforces Respect Than Attracts Fondness.