[a]lways Keep A-hold Of Nurse For Fear

In Soft Deluding Lies Let Fools Delight. A Shadow Marks Our Days, Which End In Night.

That I Grow Sour, Who Only Lack Delight; That I Descend To Sneer, Who Only Grieve: That From My Depth I Should Contemn Your Height; That With My Blame My Mockery You Receive; Huntress And Splendour Of The Woodland Night, Diana Of This World, Do Not Believe.

Torture Will Give A Dozen Pence Or More To Keep A Drab From Bawling At His Door. The Public Taste Is Quite A Different Thing Torture Is Positively Paid To Sing.

We Cannot Make Owners By Merely Giving Men Something To Own. And, I Repeat, Whether There Be Sufficient Desire For Property Left Upon Which We Can Work, Only Experience Can Decide.

The Choice Lies Between Property On The One Hand And Slavery, Public Or Private, On The Other. There Is No Third Issue.