Where There Is No Novelty,

That Perfect Tranquillity Of Life, Which Is Nowhere To Be Found But In Retreat, A Faithful Friend And A Good Library.

Women In London Are Like The Rich Silks; They Are Out Of Fashion A Great While Before They Wear Out.

Where There Is No Novelty, There Can Be No Curiosity.

'twas But A Dream, Yet By My Heart I Knew, Which Still Was Panting, Part Of It Was True: Oh How I Strove The Rest To Have Believed; Ashamed And Angry To Be Undeceived!

All I Ask, Is The Privilege For My Masculine Part The Poet In Me.... If I Must Not, Because Of My Sex, Have This Freedom... I Lay Down My Quill And You Shall Hear No More Of Me.