The Many Men, So Beautiful! And They

I Have Often Been Surprised That Mathematics, The Quintessence Of Truth, Should Have Found Admirers So Few And So Languid. Frequent Consideration And Minute Scrutiny Have At Length Unravelled The Cause: Viz . That Though Reason Is Feasted, Imagination Is Starved; Whilst Reason Is Luxuriating In Its Proper Paradise, Imagination Is Wearily Travelling On A Dreary Desert.

With No Other Privilege Than That Of Sympathy And Sincere Good Wishes, I Would Address An Affectionate Exhortation To The Youthful Literati, Grounded On My Own Experience. It Will Be But Short; For The Beginning, Middle, And End Converge To One Charge: Never Pursue Literature As A Trade.

Water Cannot Rise Higher Than Its Source, Neither Can Human Reason.

In Koln, A Town Of Monks And Bones, And Pavement Fang'd With Murderous Stones, And Rags And Hags, And Hideous Wenches, I Counted Two-and-seventy Stenches, All Well Defined, And Several Stinks! Ye Nymphs That Reign O'er Sewers And Sinks, The River Rhine, It Is Well Known, Doth Wash Your City Of Cologne; But Tell Me, Nymphs! What Power Divine Shall Henceforth Whash The River Rhine.

The Water-lily, In The Midst Of Waters, Opens Its Leaves And Expands Its Petals, At The First Pattering Of The Shower, And Rejoices In The Rain-drops With A Quicker Sympathy Than The Packed Shrubs In The Sandy Desert.