Then Liberty, Like Day, Breaks

[my Kitten] Is Dressed In A Tortoise-shell Suit, And I Know You Will Delight In Her.

O Solitude, Where Are The Charms That Sages Have Seen In Thy Face? Better Dwell In The Midst Of Alarms, Than Reign In This Horrible Place.

All Affectation; 'tis My Perfect Scorn; Object Of My Implacable Disgust.

Some Men Make Gain A Fountain, Whence Proceeds A Stream Of Liberal And Heroic Deeds; The Swell Of Pity, Not To Be Confined Within The Scanty Limits Of The Mind.

It Chills My Blood To Hear The Blest Supreme Rudely Appealed To On Each Trifling Theme.