One Law For The Lion And Ox

One Thought Fills Immensity.

Little Fly, Thy Summer's Play My Thoughtless Hand Has Brushed Away. Am Not I A Fly Like Thee? Or Art Not Thou A Man Like Me? For I Dance And Drink And Sing, Till Some Blind Hand Shall Brush My Wing!

The Look Of Love Alarms Because 'tis Filled With Fire; But The Look Of Soft Deceit Shall Win The Lover's Hire.

Imitation Is Criticism.

Prisons Are Built With Stones Of Law. Brothels With The Bricks Of Religion.