I Would Have Preferred To Have Been

Go, Grieving Rimes Of Mine, To That Hard Stone Whereunder Lies My Darling, Lies My Dear, And Cry To Her To Speak From Heaven's Sphere.

Life In Itself Is Short Enough, But The Physicians With Their Art, Know To Their Amusement, How To Make It Still Shorter.

The Aged Love What Is Practical While Impetuous Youth Longs Only For What Is Dazzling.

Books Never Pall On Me. They Discourse With Us, They Take Counsel With Us, And Are United To Us By A Certain Living Chatty Familiarity. And Not Only Does Each Book Inspire The Sense That It Belongs To Its Readers, But It Also Suggests The Name Of Others, And One Begets The Desire Of The Other.

If A Hundred Or A Thousand People, All Of The Same Age, Of The Same Constitution And Habits, Were Suddenly Seized By The Same Illness, And One Half Of Them Were To Place Themselves Under The Care Of Doctors, Such As They Are In Our Time, Whilst The Other Half Entrusted Themselves To Nature And To Their Own Discretion, I Have Not The Slightest Doubt That There Would Be More Cases Of Death Amongst The Former, And More Cases Of Recovery Among The Latter.