In her first passion, a woman loves her lover, in all the others all s >>
In general I do not draw well with literary men -- not that I dislike >>
Are we aware of our obligations to a mob? It is the mob that labor in >>
And were an epitaph to be my story I'd have a short one ready for my o >>
Oh, write of me, not Died in bitter pains, but Emigrated to another st >>
Nor has his death the world deceiv'd than his wondrous life surprise d >>
Posterity will never survey a nobler grave than this: here lie the bones of Castlereagh: stop, traveler, and piss.