Before Man Made Us Citizens, Great Nature

Idleness Induces Caprice.

Fate Loves Best Such Syllables As Are Sweet And Sonorous On The Tongue.

Reading Chaucer Is Like Brushing Through The Dewy Grass At Sunrise.

Not A Deed Would He Do, Not A Word Would He Utter, Till He's Weighed Its Relation To Plain Bread And Butter.

Let Us Be Thankful That There Is No Court By Which We Can Be Excluded From Our Share In The Inheritance Of The Great Poets Of All Ages And Countries, To Which Our Simple Humanity Entitles Us.