In A Man's Letters You Know, Madam,

Sir, What Is Poetry? Why, Sir, It Is Much Easier To Say What It Is Not. We All Know What Light Is; But It Is Not Easy To Tell What It Is.

Reason Will By Degrees Submit To Absurdity, As The Eye Is In Time Accommodated To Darkness.

To See Helpless Infancy Stretching Out Her Hands, And Pouring Out Her Cries In Testimony Of Dependence, Without Any Powers To Alarm Jealousy, Or Any Guilt To Alienate Affection, Must Surely Awaken Tenderness In Every Human Mind; And Tenderness Once Excited Will Be Hourly Increased By The Natural Contagion Of Felicity, By The Repercussion Of Communicated Pleasure, By The Consciousness Of Dignity Of Benefaction.

I Hope I Shall Never Be Deterred From Detecting What I Think A Cheat, By The Menaces Of A Ruffian.

All The Arguments Which Are Brought To Represent Poverty As No Evil Show It Evidently To Be A Great Evil.