Let Me Feel Now What Sharp Distress

This Fine Young Man Had All The Inclination To Be A Profligate Of The First Water, And Only Lacked The One Good Trait In The Common Catalogue Of Debauched Vices - Open-handedness - To Be A Notable Vagabond. But There His Griping And Penurious Habits Stepped In; And As One Poison Will Sometimes Neutralise Another, When Wholesome Remedies Would Not Avail, So He Was Restrained By A Bad Passion From Quaffing His Full Measure Of Evil, When Virtue Might Have Sought To Hold Him Back In Vain.

Don't Be Afraid! We Won't Make An Author Of You, While There's An Honest Trade To Be Learnt, Or Brick-making To Turn To.

Black Are The Brooding Clouds And Troubled The Deep Waters, When The Sea Of Thought, First Heaving From A Calm, Gives Up Its Dead

One Thing About This Face Was Very Strange And Startling. You Could Not Look Upon It In Its Most Cheerful Mood Without Feeling That It Had Some Extraordinary Capacity Of Expressing Terror. It Was Not On The Surface. It Was In No One Feature That It Lingered. You Could Not Take The Eyes Or Mouth, Or Lines Upon The Cheek, And Say, If This Or That Were Otherwise, It Would Not Be So. Yet There It Always Lurked-something For Ever Dimly Seen, But Ever There, And Never Absent For A Moment.

Upon The Purple Tree-tops Far Away, And On The Green Height Near At Hand Up Which The Shades Were Slowly Creeping, There Was An Equal Hush. Between The Real Landscape And Its Shadow In The Water, There Was No Division; Both Were So Untroubled And Clear, And, While So Fraught With Solemn Mystery Of Life And Death, So Hopefully Reassuring To The Gazer's Soothed Heart, Because So Tenderly And Mercifully Beautiful.