This Cold Night Will Turn Us All

The Barge She Sat In, Like A Burnish'd Throne, Burnt On The Water.

Can You Nominate In Order Now The Degrees Of The Lie? I Will Name You The Degrees. The First, The Retort Courteous; The Second, The Quip Modest; The Third, The Reply Churlish; The Fourth, The Reproof Valiant; The Fifth; The Countercheck Quarrelsome; The Sixth, The Lie With Circumstance; The Seventh, The Lie Direct. All These You May Avoid But The Lie Direct; And You May Avoid That Too, With An If. . . . Your If Is The Only Peace-maker; Much Virtue In If.

The Plants Look Up To Heaven, From Whence They Have Their Nourishment.

They Lie Deadly That Tell You Have Good Faces.

They That Stand High Have Many Blasts To Shake Them.