This is the patent age of new inventions for killing bodies, and for saving souls. All propagated with the best intentions.

And life 's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.

May Moorland weavers boast Pindaric skill, And tailors' lays be longer than their bill! While punctual beaux reward the grateful notes, And pay for poems--when they pay for coats.

Constancy... that small change of love, which people exact so rigidly, receive in such counterfeit coin, and repay in baser metal.

Whenever I meet with anything agreeable in this world it surprises me so much - and pleases me so much (when my passions are not interested in one way or the other) that I go on wondering for a week to come.

Nothing so fretful, so despicable as a Scribbler, see what I am, and what a parcel of Scoundrels I have brought about my ears, and what language I have been obliged to treat them with to deal with them in their own way; - all this comes of Authorship.

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