Ten Censure Wrong For One Who Writes

They Dream In Courtship, But In Wedlock Wake.

Praise Is Like Ambergrease: A Little Whiff Of It, And By Snatches, Is Very Agreeable; But When A Man Holds A Whole Lump Of It To Your Nose, It Is A Stink, And Strikes You Down.

Die Of A Rose In Aromatic Pain.

Nature Made Every Fop To Plague His Brother, Just As One Beauty Mortifies Another.

Is That A Birthday? 'tis, Alas! Too Clear; 'tis But The Funeral Of The Former Year.