Dancing Is The Poetry Of The Foot.

For All Have Not The Gift Of Martyrdom.

Time And Death Shall Depart And Say In Flying Love Has Found Out A Way To Live, By Dying.

At Home The Hateful Names Of Parties Cease, And Factious Souls Are Wearied Into Peace.

Good Sense And Good Nature Are Never Separated; And Good Nature Is The Product Of Right Reason.

A Knock-down Argument; 'tis But A Word And A Blow.