Anything Awful Makes Me Laugh.

I Allow No Hot-beds In The Gardens Of Parnassus.

How Convalescence Shrinks A Man Back To His Pristine Stature! Where Is Now The Space, Which He Occupied So Lately, In His Own, In The Family's Eye?

I Conceive Disgust At These Impertinent And Misbecoming Familiarities Inscribed Upon Your Ordinary Tombstone.

For With G. D., To Be Absent From The Body Is Sometimes (not To Speak Profanely) To Be Present With The Lord.

Summer, As My Friend Coleridge Waggishly Writes, Has Set In With Its Usual Severity.