Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure Thrill the deepest notes of wo.

Light comes to us by the sensibility. Without visual sensibility there is no light, no movement.

I sit with my toes in a brook, And if any one axes forwhy? I hits them a rap with my crook, For 'tis sentiment does it, says I.

Too quick a sense of constant infelicity.

To touch the quick.

And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers Is always the first to be touch'd by the thorns.