Where There Is Money There Is No

The Poison Tree I Was Angry With My Friend: I Told My Wrath, My Wrath Did End. I Was Angry With My Foe; I Told It Not, My Wrath Did Grow. And I Water'd It In Fears, Night & Morning With My Tears; And I Sunned It With My Smiles And With Soft Deceitful Wiles. And It Grew Both Day And Night, Till It Bore An Apple Bright; And My Foe Beheld It Shine, And He Knew That It Was Mine, And Into My Garden Stole When The Night Had Veil'd The Pole: In The Morning Glad I See My Foe Outstretch'd Beneath The Tree.

Mercy, Pity, And Peace, Are The World's Release.

Poetry Fettered, Fetters The Human Race. Nations Are Destroyed Or Flourish In Proportion As Their Poetry, Painting, And Music Are Destroyed Or Flourish.

Exuberance Is Beauty.

The Gulfing Whale Was Like A Dot In The Spell. Yet Look Upon It, And 'twould Size And Swell To Its Huge Self, And The Minutest Fish Would Pass The Very Hardest Gazer's Wish, And Show His Little Eye's Anatomy.