Variety Is The Soul Of Pleasure.

A Poet Is A Painter In His Way, He Draws To The Life, But In Another Kind; We Draw The Nobler Part, The Soul And The Mind; The Pictures Of The Pen Shall Outlast Those Of The Pencil, And Even Worlds Themselves.

Each Moment Of A Happy Lover's Hour Is Worth An Age Of Dull And Common Life.

Nothing Is More Capable Of Troubling Our Reason, And Consuming Our Health, Than Secret Notions Of Jealousy In Solitude.

As Love Is The Most Noble And Divine Passion Of The Soul, So Is It That To Which We May Justly Attribute All The Real Satisfactions Of Life, And Without It, Man Is Unfinished, And Unhappy.

'twas But A Dream, Yet By My Heart I Knew, Which Still Was Panting, Part Of It Was True: Oh How I Strove The Rest To Have Believed; Ashamed And Angry To Be Undeceived!