I Am A Friend To Subordination, As

The Feeling Of Friendship Is Like That Of Being Comfortably Filled With Roast Beef; Love, Like Being Enlivened With Champagne.

I Respect Millar, Sir: He Has Raised The Price Of Literature.

To Let Friendship Die Away By Negligence And Silence Is Certainly Not Wise. It Is Voluntarily To Throw Away One Of The Greatest Comforts Of The Weary Pilgrimage.

He That Compares What He Has Done With What He Has Left Undone, Will Feel The Effect Which Must Always Follow The Comparison Of Imagination With Reality; He Will Look With Contempt On His Own Unimportance, And Wonder To What Purpose He Came Into The World; He Will Repine That He Shall Leave Behind Him No Evidence Of His Having Been, That He Has Added Nothing To The System Of Life, But Has Glided From Youth To Age Among The Crowd, Without Any Effort For Distinction.

Sleep Undisturbed Within This Peaceful Shrine, Till Angels Wake Thee With A Note Like Thine.