And His Best Riches, Ignorance

The Hours We Pass With Happy Prospects In View Are More Pleasing Than Those Crowded With Fruition.

The Whitewash'd Wall, The Nicely Sanded Floor, The Varnish'd Clock That Click'd Behind The Door; The Chest, Contriv'd A Double Debt To Pay,- A Bed By Night, A Chest Of Drawers By Day.

I Find You Want Me To Furnish You With Argument And Intellects Too. No, Sir, These, I Protest You, Are Too Hard For Me.

Of All Kinds Of Ambition, That Which Pursues Poetical Fame Is The Wildest

Hope, Like The Gleaming Taper