Knock The 't' Off The 'can't.'

When A Poet Mentions The Spring, We Know That The Zephyrs Are About To Whisper, That The Groves Are To Recover Their Verdure, The Linnets To Warble Forth Their Notes Of Love, And The Flocks And Herds To Frisk Over Vales Painted With Flowers: Yet, Who Is There So Insensible Of The Beauties Of Nature, So Little Delighted With The Renovation Of The World, As Not To Feel His Heart Bound At The Mention Of The Spring?

Games Are Good Or Bad As To Their Nature; All May Be Perverted.

Prosperity's Right Hand Is Industry And Her Left Hand Is Frugality.

Thought Is Always Troublesome To Him Who Lives Without His Own Approbation.

The Charm Of London Is That You Are Never Glad Or Sorry For Ten Minutes Together; In The Country You Are One Or The Other For Weeks.