Love iz a lighted kandel, and coquets fly around it, just az a miller duz, till by-and-by they dive into it, and then what a burnt coquet and miller we hav.
It ain’t bekauze lovers are so sensitiff that they quarrel so often, it iz bekauze thare iz so mutch phun in making up.
I don’t kno but a Prude may possibly fall in love, but if they ever do, they don’t kno it.
About the last thing a man duz tew korrekt hiz faults iz tew quit them.
I should jist az soon expekt tew see a monkey fall in love as to see a dandy.
The wimmen ought tew ketch all them phellows who part their hair in the middle, and clap a red flannel pettycoat on them.
The chief end ov woman, now daze, seems tew be to wear new silk clothes, and the chief end ov man seems to be to pay for them.
About all that this far famed Philosophy kan teach us, iz tew suffer pain, and not own it, and it seems to hav reached the hight of its ambishun when it courts sorrow, for the sake ov being a martyr.
Pure ignoranse, after all, iz the best alloy for vanity, for a vain phool iz quite harmless. It iz better that we be grater than our condishun in life, than tew hav our condishun appear too grate for us.