He Hath A Share Of Man's Intelligence,

Alas!... What Is It, Valiant Knight, Save An Offering Of Sacrifice To A Demon Of Vain Glory, And A Passing Through The Fire Of Moloch? What Remains To You As A Prize Of All The Blood You Have Spilled, Of All The Travail And Pain You Have Endured, Of All The Tears Which Your Deeds Have Caused, When Death Hath Broken The Strong Man's Spear, And Overtaken The Speed Of His War-horse?

There Is A Southern Proverb - Fine Words Butter No Parsnips.

Blessed Be His Name, Who Hath Appointed The Quiet Night To Follow The Busy Day, And The Calm Sleep To Refresh The Wearied Limbs And To Compose The Troubled Spirit.

Meat Eaten Without Either Mirth Or Music Is Ill Of Digestion.

It Was Woman That Taught Me Cruelty, And On Woman Therefore I Have Exercised It.