Strange as it may seem, the most ludicrous lines I ever wrote have been written in the saddest mood.
The beggarly last doit.
Pernicious weed! whose scent the fair annoys, Unfriendly to society's chief joys: Thy worst effect is banishing for hours The sex whose presence civilizes ours.
The innocent seldom find an uncomfortable pillow.
Satan trembles when he sees the weakest saint upon their knees.
If a great man struggling with misfortunes is a noble object, a little man that despises them is no contemptible one.