And They Three Passed Over The White

Real Pain Can Alone Cure Us Of Imaginary Ills. We Feel A Thousand Miseries Till We Are Lucky Enough To Feel Misery.

He Knows Well The Evening Star, And Once When He Awoke, In A Most Distressful Mood (some Inward Pain Had Made Up That Strange Thing, An Infant's Dream), I Hurried With Him To Our Orchard Plot, And He Beheld The Moon, And Hushed At Once. Suspends His Sobs And Laughs Most Silently. While His Fair Eyes, That Swam With Undropped Tears, Did Glitter In The Yellow Moonbeam.

What! Did Sir W[alter] R[aleigh] Believe That A Male And Female Ounce (and, If So, Why Not Two Tigers And Lions, Etc?) Would Have Produced, In A Course Of Generations, A Cat, Or A Cat A Lion? This Is Darwinizing With A Vengeance.

Cant Is The Parrot Talk Of A Profession.

Often Do The Spirits Stride On Before The Event; And In Today Already Walks Tomorrow.