Joy Rises In Me, Like A Summer's

How Like Herrings And Onions Our Vices Are In The Morning After We Have Committed Them.

Indignation At Literary Wrongs I Leave To Men Born Under Happier Stars. I Cannot Afford It.

Men Of Genius Are Rarely Much Annoyed By The Company Of Vulgar People.

Iago's Soliloquy - The Motive-hunting Of A Motiveless Malignity - How Awful It Is!

The Blue And Bright-eyed Floweret Of The Brook, Hope's Gentle Gem, The Sweet Forget-me-not.