A Tavern Chair Is The Throne Of

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.

As A Madman Is Apt To Think Himself Grown Suddenly Great, So He That Grows Suddenly Great Is Apt To Borrow A Little From The Madman.

The Real Satisfaction Which Praise Can Afford, Is When What Is Repeated Aloud Agrees With The Whispers Of Conscience, By Showing Us That We Have Not Endeavored To Deserve Well In Vain.

Where Grief Is Fresh, Any Attempt To Divert It Only Irritates.

Deign On The Passing World To Turn Thine Eyes, And Pause Awhile From Letters, To Be Wise.