Iambics March From Short To

Our Quaint Metaphysical Opinions, In An Hour Of Anguish, Are Like Playthings By The Bedside Of A Child Deathly Sick.

I Must Reject Fluids And Ethers Of All Kinds, Magnetical, Electrical, And Universal, To Whatever Quintessential Thinness They May Be Treble Distilled, And As It Were Super-substantiated.

What Is An Epigram? A Dwarfish Whole, Its Body Brevity, And Wit Its Soul.

The Genius Of Coleridge Is Like A Sunken Treasure Ship, And Coleridge A Diver Too Timid And Lazy To Bring Its Riches To The Surface.

Guilt Is A Timorous Thing Ere Perpetration; Despair Alone Makes Guilty Men Be Bold.