There Is No Eloquence Which Does Not

Authors Are Like Cattle Going To A Fair: Those Of The Same Field Can Never Move On Without Butting One Another.

Life Is But Sighs; And, When They Cease, 'tis Over.

When A Woman Hath Ceased To Be Quite The Same To Us, It Matters Little How Different She Becomes.

Men, Like Nails, Lose Their Usefulness When They Lose Their Direction And Begin To Bend.

Ridicule Has Followed The Vestiges Of Truth, But Never Usurped Her Place.