Letter writing is the only device combining solitude with good company. - Lord Byron

Where may the wearied eye repose When gazing on the Great; Where neither guilty glory glows, Nor despicable state? Yes — one — the first — the last — the best — The Cincinnatus of the West,
Whom envy dared not hate,
Bequeath'd the name of Washington,
To make man blush there was but one!

the poor dog, in life the firmest friend, the first to welcome, the foremost to defend.

She thought of her own strength, and Juan's youth,
And of the folly of all prudish fears,
Victorious virtue, and domestic truth,
And then of Don Alfonso's fifty years:
[...]
When people say, "I've told you fifty times,"
They mean to scold, and very often do:
When poets say, "I've written fifty rhymes,"
They make you dread that they'll recite them too;
In gangs of fifty thieves commit their crimes:
At fifty love for love is rare, 'tis true,
But then, no doubt, it equally as true is,
A good deal may be bought for fifty louis.