Every Thing Possible To Be Believ'd Is

The Reason Milton Wrote In Fetters When He Wrote Of Angels And God, And At Liberty When Of Devils And Hell, Is Because He Was A True Poet And Of The Devil's Party Without Knowing It.

Christianity Is Art And Not Money. Money Is Its Curse.

O White-robed Angel, Guide My Timorous Hand To Write As On A Lofty Rock With Iron Pen The Words Of Truth, That All Who Pass May Read.

But If At Church They Would Give Some Ale. And A Pleasant Fire Our Souls To Regale. We'd Sing And We'd Pray All The Live Long Day, Nor Ever Once From The Church To Stray.

Nothing Can Be More Contemptible Than To Suppose Public Records To Be True.