If I Don't Write To Empty My

We Are All Selfish And I No More Trust Myself Than Others With A Good Motive.

The Premises Are So Delightfully Extensive, That Two People Might Live Together Without Ever Seeing, Hearing Or Meeting.

My Days Are In The Yellow Leaf; The Flowers And Fruits Of Love Are Gone; The Worm, The Canker, And The Grief, Are Mine Alone!

Sweet Is Revenge-especially To Women.

Bread Has Been Made (indifferent) From Potatoes; And Galvanism Has Set Some Corpses Grinning, But Has Not Answer'd Like The Apparatus Of The Humane Society's Beginning, By Which Men Are Unsuffocated Gratis: What Wondrous New Machines Have Late Been Spinning.