There Is No Eloquence Which

I See The Rainbow In The Sky, The Dew Upon The Grass; I See Them, And I Ask Not Why They Glimmer Or They Pass. With Folded Arms I Linger Not To Call Them Back; 'twere Vain: In This, Or In Some Other Spot, I Know They'll Shine Again.

Cruelty Is The Highest Pleasure To The Cruel Man; It Is His Love.

Goodness Does Not More Certainly Make Men Happy Than Happiness Makes Them Good.

As We Sometimes Find One Thing While We Are Looking For Another, So, If Truth Escaped Me, Happiness And Contentment Fell In My Way.

There Is Only One Word Of Tenderness We Could Say, Which We Have Not Said Oftentimes Before ; And There Is No Consolation In It. The Happy Never Say, And Never Hear Said, Farewell.