Does the imagination dwell the most Upon a woman won or a woman lost?

Man has created death.

Fairies in Ireland are sometimes as big as we are, sometimes bigger, and sometimes, as I have been told, about three feet high.

Accursed who brings to light of day the writings I have cast away.

Locke sank into a swoon; The Garden died; God took the spinning-jenny Out of his side.

Think where man's glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was I had such friends.

Our own acts are isolated and one act does not buy absolution for another.