I only go out to get me a fresh appetite for being alone.

Heaven gives its favourites-early death.

There's not a sea the passenger e'er pukes in, Turns up more dangerous breakers than the Euxine.

Yet smelt roast meat, beheld a huge fire shine, And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared.

O Fame! if I ever took delight in thy praises, Twas less for the sake of thy high-sounding phrases, Than to see the bright eyes of the dear one discover The thought that I was not unworthy to love her.

That famish'd people must be slowly nurst, and fed by spoonfuls, else they always burst.

I have a great mind to believe in Christianity for the mere pleasure of fancying I may be damned.