My Wits Begin To Turn.

Now Let It Work. Mischief, Thou Art Afoot. Take Thou What Course Thou Wilt.

Like A Man Made After Supper Of A Cheese-paring: When A' Was Naked, He Was, For All The World, Like A Forked Radish, With A Head Fantastically Carved Upon It With A Knife.

If Reasons Were As Plentiful As Blackberries, I Would Give No Man A Reason Upon Compulsion.

Tis Often Seen Adoption Strives With Nature; And Choice Breeds A Native Slip To Us From Foreign Lands.

Sleep Knits Up The Raveled Sleeve Of Care.