Man's word is God in man.
The voice of the dead was a living voice to me.
Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls.
Virtue!--to be good and just-- Every heart, when sifted well, Is a clot of warmer dust, Mix'd with cunning sparks of hell.
Fill the cup, and fill the can: Have a rouse before the morn: Every moment dies a man, Every moment one is born.
He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel force, Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse.