Every Mortal Loss Is An Immortal Gain.

The Goddess Fortune Is The Devil's Servant, Ready To Kiss Any One's Ass.

I Heard An Angel Singing; When The Day Was Springing, Mercy, Pity, Peace; Is The World's Release.

O Thou With Dewy Locks, Who Lookest Down Thro' The Clear Windows Of The Morning, Turn Thine Angel Eyes Upon Our Western Isle, Which In Full Choir Hails Thy Approach, O Spring! The Hills Tell Each Other, And The Listening Valleys Hear; All Our Longing Eyes Are Turned Up To Thy Bright Pavilions: Issue Forth, And Let Thy Holy Feet Visit Our Clime. Come O'er The Eastern Hills, And Let Our Winds Kiss Thy Perfumed Garments; Let Us Taste Thy Morn And Evening Breath; Scatter Thy Pearls Upon Our Love-sick Land That Mourns For Thee.

To Mercy Pity Peace And Love All Pray In Their Distress, And To These Virtues Of Delight Return Their Thankfulness. For Mercy Pity Peace And Love Is God Our Father Dear. And Mercy Pity Peace And Love Is Man His Child And Care. Then Every Man Of Every Clime That Prays In His Distress Prays To The Human Form Divine: Love Mercy Pity Peace. And All Must Love The Human Form In Heathen, Turk, Or Jew. Where Mercy, Love And Pity Dwell There God Is Dwelling Too.

When Sir Joshua Reynolds Died All Nature Was Degraded