Kill A Man's Family, And He May

Nothing So Fretful, So Despicable As A Scribbler, See What I Am, And What A Parcel Of Scoundrels I Have Brought About My Ears, And What Language I Have Been Obliged To Treat Them With To Deal With Them In Their Own Way; - All This Comes Of Authorship.

Venice Once Was Dear, The Pleasant Place Of All Festivity, The Revel Of The Earth, The Masque Of Italy.

I Cannot Describe To You The Despairing Sensation Of Trying To Do Something For A Man Who Seems Incapable Or Unwilling To Do Anything Further For Himself.

The Waves Were Dead; The Tides Were In Their Grave, The Moon, Their Mistress, Had Expir'd Before; The Winds Were Wither'd In The Stagnant Air, And The Clouds Perish'd; Darkness Had No Need Of Aid From Them-she Was The Universe.

Adversity Is The First Path To Truth.