Damn Description, It Is Always Disgusting.

But What Is Hope? Nothing But The Paint On The Face Of Existence; The Least Touch Of Truth Rubs It Off, And Then We See What A Hollow-cheeked Harlot We Have Got Hold Of.

There Is Pleasure In The Pathless Woods.

So For A Good Old-gentlemanly Vice, I Think I Must Take Up With Avarice.

This Place Is The Devil, Or At Least His Principal Residence, They Call It The University, But Any Other Appellation Would Have Suited It Much Better, For Study Is The Last Pursuit Of The Society; The Master Eats, Drinks, And Sleeps, The Fellows Drink, Dispute And Pun, The Employments Of The Undergraduates You Will Probably Conjecture Without My Description.

I Am About To Be Married, And Am Of Course In All The Misery Of A Man In Pursuit Of Happiness.