I Love To Lose Myself In Other

No One Ever Regarded The First Of January With Indifference. It Is That From Which All Date Their Time, And Count Upon What Is Left. It Is The Nativity Of Our Common Adam.

Presents, I Often Say, Endear Absents.

Nothing To Me Is More Distasteful Than That Entire Complacency And Satisfaction Which Beam In The Countenances Of A New Married Couple; In That Of The Lady Particularly; It Tells You That Her Lot Is Disposed Of In This World; That You Can Have No Hopes For Her.

May My Last Breath Be Drawn Through A Pipe, And Exhaled In A Jest.

Go Where Glory Waits Thee! But While Fame Elates Thee, Oh, Still Remember Me!