The Chief Glory Of Every

Suspicion Is Most Often Useless Pain.

To Tell Of Disappointment And Misery, To Thicken The Darkness Of Futurity, And Perplex The Labyrinth Of Uncertainty, Has Been Always A Delicious Employment Of The Poets

Much Mischief Is Done In The World With Very Little Interest Or Design.

He Who Waits To Do A Great Deal Of Good At Once Will Never Do Anything.

There Seems To Be A Strange Affectation In Authors Of Appearing To Have Done Everything By Chance.