To Forget, Or Pretend To Do So,

Art Hath An Enemy Called Ignorance.

Merriment Is Always The Effect Of A Sudden Impression. The Jest Which Is Expected Is Already Destroyed.

Words Too Familiar, Or Too Remote, Defeat The Purpose Of A Poet. From Those Sounds Which We Hear On Small Or On Coarse Occasions, We Do Not Easily Receive Strong Impressions, Or Delightful Images; And Words To Which We Are Nearly Strangers, Whenever They Occur, Draw That Attention On Themselves Which They Should Transmit To Other Things.

I Live In The Crowd Of Jollity, Not So Much To Enjoy Company As To Shun Myself.

He Who Has Provoked The Shaft Of Wit, Cannot Complain That He Smarts From It.