Fiery the Angels rose, and as they rose deep thunder roll'd Around their shores: indignant burning with the fires of Orc.

When nations grow old, the Arts grow cold, And Commerce settles on every tree.

Acts themselves alone are history, and these are neither the exclusive property of Hume, Gibbon nor Voltaire, Echard, Rapin, Plutarch, nor Herodotus. Tell me t…

When a Man has Married a Wife He finds out whether Her Knees & elbows are only glued together.

Revolution is a trivial shift in the emphasis of suffering; the capacity for self-indulgence changes hands.

Daughter of Jove, relentless power, Thou tamer of the human breast, Whose iron scourge and tort'ring hour The bad affright, afflict the best!

I saw the lightning's gleaming rod Reach forth and write upon the sky The awful autograph of God.