There Is A Pleasure In Poetic Pains

Is Base In Kind, And Born To Be A Slave.

And In That Hour, The Seeds Of Cruelty, That Since Have Swell'd To Such Gigantic And Enormous Growth, Were Sown In Human Nature's Fruitful Soil. Hence Date The Persecution And The Pain That Man Inflicts On All Inferior Kinds, Regardless Of Their Plaints.

But Conversation, Choose What Theme We May, And Chiefly When Religion Leads The Way, Should Flow, Like Waters After Summer Show'rs, Not As If Raised By Mere Mechanic Powers.

The Bud May Have A Bitter Taste, But Sweet Will Be The Flower.

But What Is Truth? 'twas Pilate's Question Put To Truth Itself, That Deign'd Him No Reply.