Women In London Are Like The Rich

Fantastic Fortune Thou Deceitful Light, That Cheats The Weary Traveler By Night, Though On A Precipice Each Step You Tread, I Am Resolved To Follow Where You Lead.

A Poet Is A Painter In His Way, He Draws To The Life, But In Another Kind; We Draw The Nobler Part, The Soul And The Mind; The Pictures Of The Pen Shall Outlast Those Of The Pencil, And Even Worlds Themselves.

'twas But A Dream, Yet By My Heart I Knew, Which Still Was Panting, Part Of It Was True: Oh How I Strove The Rest To Have Believed; Ashamed And Angry To Be Undeceived!

Where There Is No Novelty, There Can Be No Curiosity.

Affectation Hath Always Had A Greater Share Both In The Action And Discourse Of Men Than Truth And Judgment Have.