Affectation Hath Always Had A

Tis Love Alone Can Make Our Fetters Please.

Nothing Is More Capable Of Troubling Our Reason, And Consuming Our Health, Than Secret Notions Of Jealousy In Solitude.

Sure, I Rose The Wrong Way Today, I Have Had Such Damn'd Ill Luck Every Way.

A Poet Is A Painter In His Way, He Draws To The Life, But In Another Kind; We Draw The Nobler Part, The Soul And The Mind; The Pictures Of The Pen Shall Outlast Those Of The Pencil, And Even Worlds Themselves.

Fantastic Fortune Thou Deceitful Light, That Cheats The Weary Traveler By Night, Though On A Precipice Each Step You Tread, I Am Resolved To Follow Where You Lead.