The Rich Are Too Indolent, The Poor

Books Are Not Seldom Talismans And Spells.

He Is The Freeman Whom The Truth Makes Free, And All Are Slaves Besides.

England, With All Thy Faults I Love Thee Still, My Country!

Pity! Religion Has So Seldom Found A Skilful Guide Into Poetic Ground! The Flowers Would Spring Where'er She Deign'd To Stray And Every Muse Attend Her In Her Way.

I Am Out Of Humanity's Reach.i Must Finish My Journey Alone,never Hear The Sweet Music Of Speech;i Start At The Sound Of My Own.