'T is sweeter for thee despairing Than aught in the world beside,-Jessy!

How wretched is the person who hangs on by the favors of the powerful.

Your lines, I maintain it, are poetry, and good poetry.... Friendship... had I been so blest as to have met with you in time, might have led me - God of love only knows where.

Good Lord, what is man! for as simple he looks, Do but try to develop his books and his crooks, With his depths and his shallows, his good and his evil, All in all, he's a problem must puzzle the devil.

Or like the snow falls in the river, A moment white-then melts for ever . . .

To make three guineas do the work of five.

God knows, I'm no the thing I should be, Nor am I even the thing I could be.