Clap An Extinguisher Upon Your Irony If

Oh For A Tongue To Curse The Slave Whose Treason, Like A Deadly Blight, Comes O'er The Councils Of The Brave, And Blasts Them In Their Hour Of Might!

It Is Well If The Good Man Himself Does Not Feel His Devotions A Little Clouded, Those Foggy Sensuous Steams Mingling With And Polluting The Pure Altar Surface.

The Most Mortifying Infirmity In Human Nature, To Feel In Ourselves, Or To Contemplate In Another, Is Perhaps Cowardice.

The Drinking Man Is Never Less Himself Than During His Sober Intervals.

No Eye To Watch, And No Tongue To Wound Us, All Earth Forgot, And All Heaven Around Us.