The Now, That Indivisible Point Which Studs

Indeed He Knows Not How To Know Who Knows Not Also How To Un-know.

The Men Were Wild As Ourang-outans, And The Women Fit Only To Flog Cattle.

Do What Thy Manhood Bids Thee Do.

Travellers, Like Poets, Are Mostly An Angry Race: By Falling Into A Daily Fit Of Passion, I Proved To The Governor And His Son, Who Were Profuse In Their Attentions, That I Was In Earnest.

One Cannot Look At The Sea Without Wishing For The Wings Of A Swallow.