Much Benevolence Of The Passive Order May

What A Woman Thinks Of Women Is The Test Of Her Nature.

Prepare, You Lovers, To Know Love A Thing Of Moods: Not Like Hard Life, Of Laws.

George Eliot Has The Heart Of Sappho; But The Face, With The Long Proboscis, The Protruding Teeth Of The Apocalyptic Horse, Betrayed Animality.

I've Studied Men From My Topsy-turvy Close, And I Reckon, Rather True. Some Are Fine Fellows: Some, Right Scurvy; Most, A Dash Between The Two.

And If I Drink Oblivion Of A Day, / So Shorten I The Stature Of My Soul.