I hate all pain, Given or received; we have enough within us The meanest vassal as the loftiest monarch, Not to add to each other's natural burden Of mortal misery.

Our life is two fold Sleep hath its own world, A boundary between the things misnamed Death and existence Sleep hath its own world, And a wide realm of wild reality.

Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded. That all the Apostles would have done as they did.

Think not I am what I appear.

Mark! Where his carnage and his conquests cease, He makes a solitude and calls it-peace!

I am so changeable, being everything by turns and nothing long - such a strange melange of good and evil.

Are we aware of our obligations to a mob? It is the mob that labor in your fields and serve in your houses - that man your navy, and recruit your army - that have enabled you to defy the world, and can also defy you when neglect and calamity have driven them to despair. You may call the people a mob; but do not forget that a mob too often speaks the sentiments of the people.