I Do Not Love A Man Who

Both Wit And Understanding Are Trifles Without Integrity; It Is That Which Gives Value To Every Character. The Ignorant Peasant, Without Fault, Is Greater Than The Philosopher With Many; For What Is Genius Or Courage Without A Heart?

Creation's Heir, The World, The World Is Mine!

Friendship Is Made Up Of Esteem And Pleasure; Pity Is Composed Of Sorrow And Contempt: The Mind May For Some Time Fluctuate Between Them, But It Can Never Entertain Both At Once.

And Still They Gazed, And Still The Wonder Grew, That One Small Head Could Carry All He Knew.

What If In Scotland's Wilds We Viel'd Our Head, Where Tempests Whistle Round The Sordid Bed; Where The Rug's Two-fold Use We Might Display, By Night A Blanket, And A Plaid By Day.