A Contented Spirit Is The

Can I View Thee Panting, Lying On Thy Stomach, Without Sighing; Can I Unmoved See Thee Dying On A Log Expiring Frog!

If Its Individual Citizens, To A Man, Are To Be Believed, It Always Is Depressed, And Always Is Stagnated, And Always Is At An Alarming Crisis, And Never Was Otherwise; Though As A Body, They Are Ready To Make Oath Upon The Evangelists, At Any Hour Of The Day Or Night, That It Is The Most Thriving And Prosperous Of All Countries On The Habitable Globe.

At Last, However, He Began To Think -- As You Or I Would Have Thought At First; For It Is Always The Person Not In The Predicament Who Knows What Ought To Have Been Done In It, And Would Unquestionably Have Done It Too . . .

Old Marley Was Dead As A Doornail... The Wisdom Of Our Ancestors Is In The Simile.

On Summer Evenings, When Every Flower, And Tree, And Bird, Might Have Better Addressed My Soft Young Heart, I Have In My Day Been Caught In The Palm Of A Female Hand By The Crown, Have Been Violently Scrubbed From The Neck To The Roots Of The Hair As A Purification For The Temple, And Have Then Been Carried Off Highly Charged With Saponaceous Electricity, To Be Steamed Like A Potato In The Unventilated Breath Of The Powerful Boanerges Boiler And His Congregation, Until What Small Mind I Had, Was Quite Steamed Out Of Me