Dreading That Climax Of All Human Ills

The Castled Crag Of Drachenfels, Frowns O'er The Wide And Winding Rhine, Whose Breast Of Waters Broadly Swells Between The Banks Which Bear The Vine, And Hills All Rich With Blossom'd Trees, And Fields Which Promise Corn And Wine, And Scatter'd Cities Crowning These, Whose Far White Walls Along Them Shine.

It Is Odd But Agitation Or Contest Of Any Kind Gives A Rebound To My Spirits And Sets Me Up For A Time.

[armenian] Is A Rich Language, However, And Would Amply Repay Any One The Trouble Of Learning It.

That Prose Is A Verse, And Verse Is A Prose; Convincing All, By Demonstrating Plain – Poetic Souls Delight In Prose Insane

Out Of Chaos God Made A World, And Out Of High Passions Comes A People.