Skins May Differ, But Affection Dwells In

I Seem Forsaken And Alone, / I Hear The Lion Roar; / And Every Door Is Shut But One, / And That Is Mercy's Door.

Tea - The Cups That Cheer But Not Inebriate.

All Affectation; 'tis My Perfect Scorn; Object Of My Implacable Disgust.

Though Peace Be Made, Yet It's Interest That Keep Peace.

Heaven Speed The Canvas, Gallantly Unfurl'd, To Furnish And Accommodate A World, To Give The Pole The Produce Of The Sun, And Knit The Unsocial Climates Into One.