A Spring Of Love Gush'd From My

Plagiarists Are Always Suspicious Of Being Stolen From, As Pickpockets Are Observed Commonly To Walk With Their Hands In Their Breeches' Pockets.

Her Lips Were Red, Her Looks Were Free, Her Locks Were Yellow As Gold: Her Skin Was White As Leprosy, The Nightmare Life-in-death Was She, Who Thicks Man's Blood With Cold.

O It Is Pleasant, With A Heart At Ease, Just After Sunset, Or By Moonlight Skies, To Make The Shifting Clouds Be What You Please.

I Dislike The Frequent Use Of The Word Virtue, Instead Of Righteousness, In The Pulpit; In Prayer Or Preaching Before A Christian Community, It Sounds Too Much Like Pagan Philosophy.

Common Sense In An Uncommon Degree Is What The World Calls Wisdom.