Most Women Have No Characters At All.

Interspersed In Lawn And Opening Glades, Thin Trees Arise That Shun Each Others' Shades.

Presumptuous Man! The Reason Wouldst Thou Find,why Form'd So Weak, So Little, And So Blind?first, If Thou Canst, The Harder Reason Guess,why Form'd No Weaker, Blinder, And No Less!ask Of Thy Mother Earth, Why Oaks Are Madetaller Or Stronger Than The Weeds They Shade?or Ask Of Yonder Argent Fields Above,why Jove's Satellites Are Less Than Jove?

To Observations Which Ourselves We Make, We Grow More Partial For Th' Observer's Sake.

And Make Each Day A Critic On The Last.

What's Fame? A Fancy'd Life In Other's Breath. A Thing Beyond Us, Even Before Our Death.