There's music in the sighing of a reed; There's music in the gushing of a rill; There's music in all things, if men had ears; The earth is but the music of the spheres.

I awoke one morning and found myself famous.

As soon seek roses in December, ice in June, Hope constancy in wind, or corn in chaff Believe a woman or an epitaph Or any other thing that’s false Before you trust in critics.

Tis said that persons living on annuities Are longer lived than others.

And gentle winds and waters near, make music to the lonely ear.

The reason that adulation is not displeasing is that, though untrue, it shows one to be of consequence enough, in one way or other, to induce people to lie.

Yet smelt roast meat, beheld a huge fire shine, And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared.