Only supreme in misery!

Yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible.

That day I oft remember, when from sleep I first awaked, and found myself reposed, Under a shade, on flowers, much wondering where And what I was, whence thither brought, and how.

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Yet I thought I saw her stand, A shadow there at my feet, High over the shadowy land.

Seal'd her minefrom her first sweet breath Mine, and mine by right, from birth till death Mine, mine-our fathers have sworn.

The innocent seldom find an uncomfortable pillow.

How much a dunce that has been sent to roam, excels a dunce that has been kept at home.

“No man knows how bad he is till he has tried very hard to be good.”

“A pleasure is not full grown until it is remembered.”

And I breathe large at home. I drop my cloak, Unclasp my girdle, loose the band that ties My hair...now could I but unloose my soul! We are sepulchred alive in this close world, And want more room.

Tis because we be on a blighted star, and not a sound one, isn't it Tess?

--the ethereal, fine-nerved, sensitive girl, quite unfitted by temperament and instinct to fulfil the conditions of the matrimonial relation with Phillotson, possibly with scarce any man...

Some folks want their luck buttered.

Our rural ancestors, with little blest, Patient of labor when the end was rest, Indulged the day that housed their annual grain, With feasts, and off'rings, and a thankful strain.

What dire offence from am'rous causes springs, What mighty contests rise from trivial things,...

Chaos of thought and passion, all confus'd.

Order is heaven's first law.

Then most our trouble still when most admired, And still the more we give, the more required; Whose fame with pains we guard, but lose with ease, Sure some to vex, but never all to please.

Remembrance and reflection how allied! What thin partitions Sense from Thought divide!

No place so scared from such frops is barred Nor is Paul's Church more safe than Paul's Churchyard Na fly to alter there they'll talk you dead For fools rush in where angels fear to tread.

Thy voice I seem in ev'ry hymn to hear, with ev'ry bead I drop too soft a tear...

Why charge we Heav'n in those, in these acquit? In both, to reason right is to submit.

All this dread order break- for whom? for thee? Vile worm!- oh madness! pride! impiety!