There Is No Character In The Comedy

My Father Died And Left Me His Blessing And His Business. His Blessing Brought No Money Into My Pocket, And As To His Business, It Soon Deserted Me, For I Was Busy Writing Poetry, And Could Not Attend To Law, And My Clients, Though They Had Great Respect For My Talents, Had No Faith In A Poetical Attorney.

With Every Exertion, The Best Of Men Can Do But A Moderate Amount Of Good; But It Seems In The Power Of The Most Contemptible Individual To Do Incalculable Mischief.

To Look Upon Its Grass Grown Yard, Where The Sunbeams Seem To Sleep So Quietly, One Would Think That There At Least The Dead Might Rest In Peace.

To One Given To Day-dreaming, And Fond Of Losing Himself In Reveries, A Sea-voyage Is Full Of Subjects For Meditation; But Then They Are The Wonders Of The Deep And Of The Air, And Rather Tend To Abstract The Mind From Worldly Themes.

In Civilized Life, Where The Happiness, And Indeed Almost The Existence, Of Man Depends So Much Upon The Opinion Of His Fellow-men, He Is Constantly Acting A Studied Part. The Bold And Peculiar Traits Of Native Character Are Refined Away Or Softened Down By The Levelling Influence Of What Is Termed Good-breeding, And He Practises So Many Petty Deceptions And Affects So Many Generous Sentiments For The Purposes Of Popularity That It Is Difficult To Distinguish His Real From His Artificial Character.