Grief dejects and wrings the tortured soul.
Let us not write at a loose rambling rate, in hope the world will wink at all our faults.
You gain your point if your industrious art can make unusual words easy.
Those things which now seem frivolous and slight, Will be of serious consequence to you, When they have made you once ridiculous.
Words are like leaves; some wither every year, and every year a younger race succeed.
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