Love Is Sentimental Measles.

I Go At What I Have To Do As If There Were Nothing Else In The World For Me To Do.

[a]ll The Ingenious Men, And All The Scientific Men, And All The Fanciful Men, In The World,... Could Never Invent, If All Their Wits Were Boiled Into One, Anything So Curious And So Ridiculous As A Lobster.

Oh! That We Two Were Maying Down The Stream Of The Soft Spring Breeze; Like Children With Violets Playing, In The Shade Of The Whispering Trees.

Music Has Been Called The Speech Of The Angels; I Will Go Farther And Call It The Speech Of God Himself.

Be Good, Sweet Maid, And Let Who Will Be Clever.