Many Have An Irresistible Itch For Writing.

In The Present State Of The World It Is Difficult Not To Write Lampoons.

Satire Is What Closes Saturday Night.

Lost Money Is Bewailed With Deeper Sighs Than Friends, Or Kindred, And With Louder Cries.

There Will He Nothing More That Posterity Can Add To Our Immoral Habits; Our Descendants Must Have The Same Desires And Act The Same Follies As Their Sires. Every Vice Has Reached Its Zenith.

To Gain A Livelihood At The Expense Of All That Makes Life Worth The Having.