The red-letter days, now become, to all intents and purposes, dead-letter days.
When I am not walking, I am reading. I cannot sit and think.
Asparagus inspires gentle thoughts.
The harp that once through Tara's halls The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls As if that soul were fled. So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory's thrill is o'er; And hearts that once beat high for praise Now feel that pulse no more.
A Persian's heaven is eas'ly made: 'T is but black eyes and lemonade.
Sassafras wood boiled down to a kind of tea, and tempered with an infusion of milk and sugar hath to some a delicacy beyond the China luxury.