Laughter Ispleasant, Butthe Exertion Istoomuchfor Me.

My Quarrel With Him Is, That His Works Contain Nothing Worth Quoting; And A Book That Furnishes No Quotations, Is Me Judice, No Book,—it Is A Plaything.

Tea, Late Dinners And The French Revolution. I Cannot Exactly See The Connection Of Ideas.

The Juice Of The Grape Is The Liquid Quintessence Of Concentrated Sunbeams.

Clouds On Clouds, In Volumes Driven, Curtain Round The Vault Of Heaven.

But Still My Fancy Wanders Free Through That Which Might Have Been.