Such dainties to them, their health it might hurt; It 's like sending them ruffles when wanting a shirt.

The loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind.

Thou source of all my bliss and all my woe, That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so.

A man who leaves home to mend himself and others is a philosopher; but he who goes from country to country, guided by the blind impulse of curiosity, is a vagabond.

Life at the greatest and best is but a froward child, that must be humored and coaxed a little till it falls asleep, and then all the care is over.

I fancy the character of a poet is in every country the same,--fond of enjoying the present, careless of the future; his conversation that of a man of sense, his actions those of a fool.

All his faults are such that one loves him still the better for them.