Thus Hath The Candle Sing'd The Moth.

Blow, Winds, And Crack Your Cheeks! Rage! Blow! You Cataracts And Hurricanoes, Spout Till You Have Drenched Our Teeples, Drowned The Cocks! You Sulphurour And Thought-executing Fires, Vaunt-couriers To Oak-cleaving Thunderbolts, Singe My White Head! And Thou, All-shaking Thunder, Strike Flat The Thick Rotundity O' The World! Crack Nature's Molds, All Germens Spill At Once That Make Ingrateful Man!

Heaven Truly Knows That Thou Art False As Hell.

He Is The Most Wretched Of Men Who Has Never Felt Adversity.

O, Wonder! How Many Goodly Creatures Are There Here! How Beauteous Mankind Is! O Brave New World, That Has Such People In't!

Foolery, Sir, Does Walk About The Orb Like The Sun; It Shines Everywhere.