That Perfect Tranquillity Of Life, Which Is

Come Away; Poverty's Catching.

All I Ask, Is The Privilege For My Masculine Part The Poet In Me.... If I Must Not, Because Of My Sex, Have This Freedom... I Lay Down My Quill And You Shall Hear No More Of Me.

Affectation Hath Always Had A Greater Share Both In The Action And Discourse Of Men Than Truth And Judgment Have.

Sure, I Rose The Wrong Way Today, I Have Had Such Damn'd Ill Luck Every Way.

A Poet Is A Painter In His Way, He Draws To The Life, But In Another Kind; We Draw The Nobler Part, The Soul And The Mind; The Pictures Of The Pen Shall Outlast Those Of The Pencil, And Even Worlds Themselves.