How Fleet Is A Glance

When One That Holds Communion With The Skies Has Fill'd His Urn Where These Pure Waters Rise, And Once More Mingles With Us Meaner Things, 'tis E'en As If An Angel Shook His Wings.

I Am Out Of Humanity's Reach.

A Moral, Sensible, And Well-bred Manwill Not Affront Me, And No Other Can.

Absence Of Proof Is Not Proof Of Absence.

In Indolent Vacuity Of Thought.