When I consider how little of a rarity children are -- that every street and blind alley swarms with them -- that the poorest people commonly have them in most abundance -- that there are few marriages that are not blest with at least one of these bargains -- how often they turn out ill, and defeat the fond hopes of their parents, taking to vicious courses, which end in poverty, disgrace, the gallows, etc. -- I cannot for my life tell what cause for pride there can possibly be in having them.

Oh stay! oh stay! Joy so seldom weaves a chain Like this to-night, that oh 't is pain To break its links so soon.

A clear fire, a clean hearth, and the rigour of the game.

I conceive disgust at these impertinent and misbecoming familiarities inscribed upon your ordinary tombstone.

I could never hate anyone I knew.

My motto is: Contented with little, yet wishing for more.

In some respects the better a book is, the less it demands from the binding.