... If It Were The

We Travellers Are In Very Hard Circumstances. If We Say Nothing But What Has Been Said Before Us, We Are Dull And Have Observed Nothing. If We Tell Anything New, We Are Laughed At As Fabulous And Romantic.

My Chief Study All My Life Has Been To Lighten Misfortunes And Multiply Pleasures, As Far As Human Nature Can.

Muse, Time Has Taught Me That All Metaphysical Systems, Even Historical Facts Given As Truths, Are Hardly That, So I Amuse Myself With More Agreeable Lies; I No Longer Read Anything But Novels.

The Screech-owl, With Ill-boding Cry, Portends Strange Things, Old Women Say; Stops Every Fool That Passes By, And Frights The School-boy From His Play.

See How That Pair Of Billing Doves With Open Murmurs Own Their Loves And, Heedless Of Censorious Eyes, Pursue Their Unpolluted Joys: No Fears Of Future Want Molest The Downy Quiet Of Their Nest.