A Garden, Sir, Wherein All Rainbows And

Young Blood Must Have Its Course, Lad, And Every Dog Its Day.

A Blessed Thing It Is To Have A Friend; One Human Soul Whom We Can Trust Utterly; Who Knows The Best And Worst Of Us, And Who Loves Us In Spite Of All Our Faults; Who Will Speak The Honest Truth To Us, While The World Flatters Us To Our Face, And Laughs At Us Behind Our Back; Who Will Give Us Counsel And Reproof In A Day Of Prosperity And Self-conceit; But Who, Again, Will Comfort And Encourage Us In Days Of Difficulty And Sorrow, When The World Leaves Us Alone To Fight Our Own Battle As We Can.

A Fine Lady; By Which Term I Wish To Express The Result Of That Perfect Education In Taste And Manner, Down To Every Gesture, Which Heaven Forbid That I, Professing To Be A Poet, Should Undervalue. It Is Beautiful, And Therefore I Welcome It In The Name Of The Author Of All Beauty. I Value It So Highly That I Would Fain See It Extend Not Merely From Belgravia To The Tradesman's Villa, But Thence, As I Believe It One Day Will, To The Laborer's Hovel And The Needlewoman's Garret.

[the] Great Fairy Science, Who Is Likely To Be Queen Of All The Fairies For Many A Year To Come, Can Only Do You Good, And Never Do You Harm.

If You Wish To Be Miserable, Think About Yourself, About What You Want, What You Like, What Respect People Ought To Pay You, What People Think Of You; And Then To You Nothing Will Be Pure. You Will Spoil Everything You Touch; You Will Make Sin And Misery For Yourself Out Of Everything God Sends You; You Will Be As Wretched As You Choose.