Man's Conscience Is The Oracle Of God.

I Love The Language, It Sounds As If It Should Be Writ On Satin With Syllables Which Breathe Of The Sweet South

Tis The Perception Of The Beautiful, A Fine Extension Of The Faculties, Platonic, Universal, Wonderful, Drawn From The Stars, And Filtered Through The Skies, Without Which Life Would Be Extremely Dull

Perhaps The Early Grave Which Men Weep Over May Be Meant To Save.

Yet Truth Will Sometimes Lend Her Noblest Fires, And Decorate The Verse Herself Inspires: This Fact, In Virtue's Name, Let Crabbe Attest,- Though Nature's Sternest Painter, Yet The Best.

Now What I Love In Women Is, They Won't Or Can't Do Otherwise Than Lie, But Do It. So Well, The Very Truth Seems Falsehood To It.