It seemed to me pretty plain, that they had more of love than matrimony in them.

And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew, that one small head could carry all he knew.

And learn the luxury of doing good.

Blest that abode, where want and pain repair, And every stranger finds a ready chair.

For the first time, the best may err, art may persuade, and novelty spread out its charms. The first fault is the child of simplicity; but every other the offspring of guilt.

Here lies David Garrick, describe me who can, An abridgment of all that was pleasant in man.

I love everything that's old, - old friends, old times, old manners, old books, old wine.