Sure my love is all crostLike a bud in the frostAnd there's no use at all in my going to bed,For 't is dhrames and not slape that comes into my head! — Samuel Lover Copy Share Image
But all husbands are geese, though our pride it may shock, From the first 'twas ordained so by Nature I fear; Ould Adam himself… — Samuel Lover Copy Share Image
When once the itch of literature comes over a man, nothing can cure it but the scratching of a pen. — Samuel Lover Copy Share Image
To return after long years of painful absence to some place which has been the scene of our former joys, and whence the force… — Samuel Lover Copy Share Image
Oh, happy triumph of the poet! - to hear his verses wedded to sweet sounds, and warbled by the woman he loves! — Samuel Lover Copy Share Image
What is wine? It is the grape present in another form; its essence is there, though the fruit which produced it grew thousands of… — Samuel Lover Copy Share Image
Sure my love is all crostLike a bud in the frostAnd there's no use at all in my going to bed,For 't is dhrames… — Samuel Lover Copy Share Image
My hearing has suffered seriously; just now I am obliged to have the assistance of an ear trumpet. Think of that, my beauty! -… — Samuel Lover Copy Share Image
