Though just biographical record will touch the failings of the good and the eminent with tenderness.
Time's stern tide, with cold Oblivion's wave, Shall soon dissolve each fair, each fading charm.
Suffer not thy wrongs to shroud thy fate, But turn, my soul, to blessings which remain.
Let me be content with being happy, without sighing that I am not distinguished.
If I had girls to educate I would not have them learn both music and drawing.