A woman being never at a loss... the devil always sticks by them.

What is the end of Fame? 'tis but to fill A certain portion of uncertain paper: Some liken it to climbing up a hill, Whose summit, like all hills, is lost in vapour: For this men write, speak, preach, and heroes kill, And bards burn what they call their "midnight taper," To have, when the original is dust, A name, a wretched picture, and worse bust.

Marriage, from love, like vinegar from wine-- A sad, sour sober beverage--by time Is sharpened from its high celestial flavor Down to a very homely household savor.

Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt In solitude, where we are least alone.

Think not I am what I appear.

The Christian has greatly the advantage of the unbeliever, having everything to gain and nothing to lose.

He makes a solitude, and calls it - peace!