They Are At The End Of The

I Nauseate Walking; 'tis A Country Diversion, I Loathe The Country.

I Know A Lady That Loves To Talk So Incessantly, She Won't Give An Echo Fair Play; She Has That Everlasting Rotation Of Tongue That An Echo Must Wait Till She Dies Before It Can Catch Her Last Words!

I Always Take Blushing Either For A Sign Of Guilt, Or Of Ill Breeding.

Beauty Is The Lover's Gift.

A Woman Only Obliges A Man To Secrecy, That She May Have The Pleasure Of Telling Herself.