What is mind? No matter. What is matter? Never mind. What is the soul? It is immaterial.
A certain portion of the human race has certainly a taste for being diddled.
Well for the drones of the social hive that there are bees of an industrious turn, willing, for an infinitesimal share of the honey, to undertake the labor of its fabrication.
Alas for the rarity Of Christian charity Under the sun!
No blessed leisure for love or hope, But only time for grief.
O men with sisters dear, O men with mothers and wives, It is not linen you 're wearing out, But human creatures' lives!