Say What You Will, 'tis Better To

She Likes Herself, Yet Others Hates, For That Which In Herself She Prizes; And While She Laughs At Them, Forgets She Is The Thing That She Despises.

They Are At The End Of The Gallery; Retired To Their Tea And Scandal, According To Their Ancient Custom.

O Ay, Letters - I Had Letters - I Am Persecuted With Letters - I Hate Letters - Nobody Knows How To Write Letters; And Yet One Has 'em, One Does Not Know Why - They Serve One To Pin Up One's Hair.

A Wit Should No More Be Sincere, Than A Woman Constant; One Argues A Decay Of Parts, As To Other Of Beauty.

Would Any Thing But A Madman Complain Of Uncertainty? Uncertainty And Expectation Are Joys Of Life; Security Is An Insipid Thing; And The Overtaking And Possessing Of A Wish Discovers The Folly Of The Chase.