The Human Species, According To The Best

Trample Not On The Ruins Of A Man.

I Counsel Thee, Shut Not Thy Heart, Nor Thy Library.

From A Poor Man, Poor In Time, I Was Suddenly Lifted Up Into A Vast Revenue; I Could See No End Of My Possessions; I Wanted Some Steward, Or Judicious Bailiff, To Manage My Estates In Time For Me.

I Know That A Sweet Child Is The Sweetest Thing In Nature, Not Even Excepting The Delicate Creatures Which Bear Them.

The Man Must Have A Rare Recipe For Melancholy, Who Can Be Dull In Fleet Street.