Oh, The Pleasure Of Eating My Dinner

A Clear Fire, A Clean Hearth, And The Rigour Of The Game.

My Only Books Were Woman's Looks,- And Folly 's All They 've Taught Me.

Some People Have A Knack Of Putting Upon You Gifts Of No Real Value, To Engage You To Substantial Gratitude. We Thank Them For Nothing.

Every Commonplace Or Trite Observation Is Not A Truism.

Oh Call It By Some Better Name, For Friendship Sounds Too Cold.