What is mind? No matter. What is matter? Never mind. What is the soul? It is immaterial.

It was a childish ignorance, But now 'tis little joy To know I'm further off from heaven Than when I was a boy.

I resolved that, like the sun, as long as my day lasted, I would look on the bright side of everything.

She stood breast-high amid the corn Clasp'd by the golden light of morn, Like the sweetheart of the sun, Who many a glowing kiss had won.

When Eve upon the first of Men The apple press'd with specious cant, Oh! what a thousand pities then That Adam was not Adamant!

Apothegms form a short cut to much knowledge.

How widely its agencies vary,- To save, to ruin, to curse, to bless,- As even its minted coins express, Now stamp'd with the image of Good Queen Bess, And now of a Bloody Mary.