Sorrow Is Knowledge, Those That Know The

Nothing So Difficult As A Beginning In Poesy, Unless Perhaps The End.

One Hates An Author That's All Author.

And If I Laugh At Any Mortal Thing, 'tis That I May Not Weep.

Between Two Worlds Life Hovers Like A Star, Twixt Night And Morn, Upon The Horizon's Verge.

Now What I Love In Women Is, They Won't Or Can't Do Otherwise Than Lie, But Do It. So Well, The Very Truth Seems Falsehood To It.