Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd soul And lap it in Elysium.

This horror will grow mild, this darkness light.

This manner of writing wherein knowing myself inferior to myself? I have the use, as I may account it, but of my left hand.

His sleep Was aery light, from pure digestion bred.

Let us go forth and resolutely dare with sweat of brow to toil our little day.

Neither prosperity nor empire nor heaven can be worth winning at the price of a virulent temper, bloody hands, an anguished spirit, and a vain hatred of the rest of the world.

These two imparadised in one another's arms, the happier Eden, shall enjoy their fill of bliss on bliss.