Little Lamb, Who Made Thee? Dost Thou

Harmony Of Colouring Is Destructive Of Art? It Is Like The Smile Of A Fool.

The Crow Wished Everything Was Black, The Owl, That Everything Was White.

Some Say That Happiness Is Not Good For Mortals, & They Ought To Be Answered That Sorrow Is Not Fit For Immortals & Is Utterly Useless To Any One; A Blight Never Does Good To A Tree, & If A Blight Kill Not A Tree But It Still Bear Fruit, Let None Say That The Fruit Was In Consequence Of The Blight.

The Wrath Of The Lion Is The Wisdom Of God.

I Have No Name: I Am But Two Days Old. What Shall I Call Thee? I Happy Am, Joy Is My Name. Sweet Joy Befall Thee!