Clap An Extinguisher Upon Your Irony If

I Toiled After It, Sir, As Some Men Toil After Virtue.

A Book Reads The Better Which Is Our Own, And Has Been So Long Known To Us, That We Know The Topography Of Its Blots, And Dog's Ears, And Can Trace The Dirt In It To Having Read It At Tea With Buttered Muffins.

There Is A Pleasure In Affecting Affectation.

The Laws Of Pluto's Kingdom Know Small Difference Between King And Cobbler, Manager And Call-boy; And, If Haply Your Dates Of Life Were Conterminant, You Are Quietly Taking Your Passage, Cheek By Cheek (o Ignoble Levelling Of Death) With The Shade Of Some Recently Departed Candle-snuffer.

An Album Is A Garden, Not For Show Planted, But Use; Where Wholesome Herbs Should Grow.