New Year's Day Is Every

Reader, If You Are Gifted With Nerves Like Mine, Aspire To Any Character But That Of A Wit.

Here Cometh April Again, And As Far As I Can See The World Hath More Fools In It Than Ever.

I Can Scarce Bring Myself To Believe, That I Am Admitted To A Familiar Correspondence, And All The License Of Friendship, With A Man Who Writes Blank Verse Like Milton.

There Is A Pleasure In Affecting Affectation.

We All Have Some Taste Or Other, Of Too Ancient A Date To Admit Of Our Remembering It Was An Acquired One.