Forgive What You Can't Excuse.

The Screech-owl, With Ill-boding Cry, Portends Strange Things, Old Women Say; Stops Every Fool That Passes By, And Frights The School-boy From His Play.

... If It Were The Fashion To Go Naked, The Face Would Be Hardly Observed.

It Is The Common Error Of Builders And Parents To Follow Some Plan They Think Beautiful (and Perhaps Is So) Without Considering That Nothing Is Beautiful That Is Misplaced.

Solitude Begets Whimsies.

See How That Pair Of Billing Doves With Open Murmurs Own Their Loves And, Heedless Of Censorious Eyes, Pursue Their Unpolluted Joys: No Fears Of Future Want Molest The Downy Quiet Of Their Nest.