Faith Prefers The Absurd To The Plausible.

The Harp Is An Insipid Instrument--no Good For Dancing, Feasting, Or Marching, Only For Sitting Primly In A Parlor Or On A Cloud.

Work At First Rescues Us, Then Ravages Us.

People Who Abhor Solitude May Abhor Company Almost As Much.

The Vices Of Youth Now Exceed My Powers, But Not My Fancy.

Lies Save Trouble Now, But May Return In Thunder And Lightning.