This Long Disease, My Life.

Every Man Has Just As Much Vanity As He Wants Understanding.

Why Did I Write? Whose Sin To Me Unknown Dipt Me In Ink, My Parents', Or My Own? As Yet A Child, Nor Yet A Fool To Fame, I Lisp'd In Numbers, For The Numbers Came.

Beauties In Vain Their Pretty Eyes May Roll; Charms Strike The Sight, But Merit Wins The Soul.

The Most Positive Men Are The Most Credulous, Since They Most Believe Themselves, And Advise Most With Their Falsest Flatterer And Worst Enemy--their Own Self-love.

Order Is Heaven's First Law; And This Confessed, Some Are, And Must Be, Greater Than The Rest, More Rich, More Wise; But Who Infers From Hence That Such Are Happier, Shocks All Common Sense. Condition, Circumstance, Is Not The Thing; Bliss Is The Same In Subject Or In King.