May My Last Breath Be Drawn Through

The Most Mortifying Infirmity In Human Nature, To Feel In Ourselves, Or To Contemplate In Another, Is Perhaps Cowardice.

I Have Something More To Do Than To Feel.

The Muses Were Dumb While Apollo Lectured.

(the Pig) Hath A Fair Sepulchre In The Grateful Stomach Of The Judicious Epicure - And For Such A Tomb Might Be Content To Die.

The Truant Fancy Was A Wanderer Ever.