Like the bee, we should make our industry our amusement.
I have seen her and sister cry over a book for an hour together, and they said, they liked the book the better the more it made them cry.
The pictures placed for ornament and use, The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose.
And his best riches, ignorance of wealth.
All the bloomy flush of life is fled.
Embosom'd in the deep where Holland lies. Methinks her patient sons before me stand, Where the broad ocean leans against the land.