In itself a thought, a slumbering thought is capable of years; and curdles a long life into one hour.
Oh, for a forty-parson power to chant Thy praise, Hypocrisy! Oh, for a hymn Loud as the virtues thou dost loudly vaunt, Not practise!
A schoolboy's tale, the wonder of an hour!
The dome of thought, the palace of the soul.
Out of chaos God made a world, and out of high passions comes a people.
So much alarmed that she is quite alarming