Clergymen Who Publish Pious Frauds In The

Is Duty A Mere Sport, Or An Employ! Life An Entrusted Talent Or A Toy!

Real Pain Can Alone Cure Us Of Imaginary Ills. We Feel A Thousand Miseries Till We Are Lucky Enough To Feel Misery.

O Pure Of Heart! Thou Needest Not Ask Of Me What This Strong Music In The Soul May Be!

Oh Sleep! It Is A Gentle Thing, Beloved From Pole To Pole, To Mary Queen The Praise Be Given! She Sent The Gentle Sleep From Heaven, That Slid Into My Soul.

...in Consequence Of The Film Of Familiarity And Selfish Solicitude, We Have Eyes Yet See Not, Ears That Hear Not, And Hearts That Neither Feel Nor Understand.