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Can I see another's woe, And not be in sorrow too? Can I see another's grief, And not seek for kind relief? Can I see a falling tear, And not feel my sorrow's share? Can a father see his child Weep, nor be with sorrow filled? Can a mother sit and hear An infant groan, an infant fear? No, no! never can it be! Never, never can it be!
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God is the poetic genius in each of us.
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Angels are happier than men and devils, because they are not always prying after good and evil in one another, and eating the tree of knowledge for Satan's gratification.
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God appears, and God is Light, to those poor souls who dwell in Night; but does a Human Form display to those who dwell in realms of Day.
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The thankful receiver bears a plentiful harvest.
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Where any view of money exists, art cannot be carried on.
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Children of the future age Reading this indignant page Know that in a former time Love, sweet love, was thought a crime.
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He who desires, but acts not, breeds pestilence.
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The Man who pretends to be a modest enquirer into the truth of a self-evident thing is a Knave.
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Work up imagination to the state of vision.
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But if at church they would give some ale. And a pleasant fire our souls to regale. We'd sing and we'd pray all the live long day, Nor ever once from the church to stray.
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To be an Error and to be Cast out is a part of God's Design.
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Bring me an axe and spade, Bring me a winding-sheet; When I my grave have made Let winds and tempests beat: Then down I'll lie as cold as clay. True love doth pass away!
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Everything is beautiful in its own way. Exuberance is beauty.
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If Christianity was morality, Socrates would be the Saviour.
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The little ones leaped, and shouted, and laugh'd And all the hills echoed.
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I was angry with my friend: I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow.
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The Fool shall not enter into Heaven let him be ever so Holy.
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My mother bore me in the southern wild, And I am black, but O! my soul is white; White as an angel is the English child, But I am black as if bereaved of light.
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God only acts and is, in existing beings or men.
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Every Night and every Morn Some to Misery are born. Every Morn and every Night Some are born to Sweet Delight, Some are born to Endless Night.
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Sweet babe, in thy face Soft desires I can trace, Secret joys and secret smiles, Little pretty infant wiles.
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Although wine when it is read somewhat lacks the savour of wine when it is drunk, wine remains a very pleasant thing both to read about and to chat about.
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Let the men do their duty & the women will be such wonders; the female life lives from the light of the male: see a man's female dependants, you know the man.