Men From Children Nothing Differ.

This Making Of Christians Will Raise The Price Of Hogs.

The Sands Are Number'd That Make Up My Life; Here Must I Stay, And Here My Life Must End.

Madness In Great Ones Must Not Unwatched Go.

Hang There Like Fruit, My Soul, Till The Tree Die!

See How She Leans Her Cheek Upon Her Hand. O, That I Were A Glove Upon That Hand That I Might Touch That Cheek!