Take All The Pleasures Of All The

Beholding Heaven, And Feeling Hell.

A Book Reads The Better Which Is Our Own, And Has Been So Long Known To Us, That We Know The Topography Of Its Blots, And Dog's Ears, And Can Trace The Dirt In It To Having Read It At Tea With Buttered Muffins.

Coleridge Declares That A Man Cannot Have A Good Conscience Who Refuses Apple Dumplings, And I Confess That I Am Of The Same Opinion.

How Sickness Enlarges The Dimension Of A Man’s Self To Himself!

The World Meets Nobody Half Way.