Fattened In Vice, So Callous And So

Who Climbs The Grammar-tree, Distinctly Knows Where Noun, And Verb, And Participle Grows.

I Trade Both With The Living And The Dead, For The Enrichment Of Our Native Language.

Words Are But Pictures Of Our Thoughts.

A Lazy Frost, A Numbness Of The Mind.

If Thou Dost Still Retain The Same Ill Habits, The Same Follies, Too, Still Thou Art Bound To Vice, And Still A Slave.