We Are All Sure Of

To The Last Moment Of His Breath, On Hope The Wretch Relies; And Even The Pang Preceding Death Bids Expectation Rise.

The Pregnant Quarry Teem'd With Human Form.

I Always Get The Better When I Argue Alone.

Quality And Title Have Such Allurements That Hundreds Are Ready To Give Up All Their Own Importance, To Cringe, To Flatter, To Look Little, And To Pall Every Pleasure In Constraint, Merely To Be Among The Great, Though Without The Least Hopes Of Improving Their Understanding Or Sharing Their Generosity. They Might Be Happier Among Their Equals.

But Times Are Alter'd; Trade's Unfeeling Train Usurp The Land, And Dispossess The Swain; Along The Lawn, Where Scatter'd Hamlets Rose, Unwieldy Wealth And Cumbrous Pomp Repose.