True genius walks along a line, and, perhaps, our greatest pleasure is in seeing it so often near falling, without being ever actually down.

To me more dear, congenial to my heart, One native charm, than all the gloss of art.

The bounds of a man's knowledge are easily concealed, if he has but prudence.

The whitewash'd wall, the nicely sanded floor, The varnish'd clock that click'd behind the door; The chest, contriv'd a double debt to pay,- A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day.

Some fleeting good, that mocks me with the view.

Is it that Nature, attentive to the preservation of mankind, increases our wishes to live, while she lessens our enjoyments, and as she robs the senses of every pleasure, equips imag-ination in the spoil?

Write how you want, the critic shall show the world you could have written better.