Old Peter Grimes Made Fishing

He Tried The Luxury Of Doing Good.

But Jest Apart--what Virtue Canst Thou Trace In That Broad Trim That Hides Thy Sober Face? Does That Long-skirted Drab, That Over-nice And Formal Clothing, Prove A Scorn Of Vice? Then For Thine Accent--what In Sound Can Be So Void Of Grace As Dull Monotony?

Our Farmers Round, Well Pleased With Constant Gain, Like Other Farmers, Flourish And Complain.

We Cannot Heal The Throbbing Heart Till We Discern The Wounds Within.

But Monument Themselves Memorials Need.