Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?
How fares it with the happy dead?
If I had a flower for every time I thought of you...I could walk through my garden forever.
A lie which is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies.
A pasty costly-made, Where quail and pigeon, lark and leveret lay, Like fossils of the rock, with golden yolks Imbedded and injellied.
France had shown a light to all men, preached a Gospel, all men's good; Celtic Demos rose a Demon, shriek'd and slaked the light with blood.