Are There No Prisons?

Old Time, That Greatest And Longest Established Spinner Of All!... His Factory Is A Secret Place, His Work Is Noiseless, And His Hands Are Mutes.

There Was A Long Hard Time When I Kept Far From Me The Remembrance Of What I Had Thrown Away When I Was Quite Ignorant Of Its Worth.

Spring Flew Swiftly By, And Summer Came; And If The Village Had Been Beautiful At First, It Was Now In The Full Glow And Luxuriance Of Its Richness. The Great Trees, Which Had Looked Shrunken And Bare In The Earlier Months, Had Now Burst Into Strong Life And Health; And Stretching Forth Their Green Arms Over The Thirsty Ground, Converted Open And Naked Spots Into Choice Nooks, Where Was A Deep And Pleasant Shade From Which To Look Upon The Wide Prospect, Steeped In Sunshine, Which Lay Stretched Out Beyond.

-why Don't You Cry Again, You Little Wretch? -because I'll Never Cry For You Again.

... Still His Philanthropy Was Of That Gunpowderous Sort That The Difference Between It And Animosity Was Hard To Determine.