Still from the fount of joy's delicious springs Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings.
Who then will explain the explanation?
Gone, glimmering through the dream of things that were.
Those who will not reason, are bigots, those who cannot, are fools, and those who dare not, are slaves.
You should have a softer pillow than my heart.
A woman should never be seen eating or drinking, unless it be lobster salad and Champagne, the only true feminine and becoming viands.