FastSaying
The apples that grew on the fruit-tree of knowledge By woman were pluck'd, and she still wears the prize To tempt us in theatre, senate, or college-- I mean the love-apples that bloom in the eyes. - Horace Smith and James Smith,
Horace Smith and James Smith
Apples
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Hail, glorious edifice, stupendous work! God bless the Regent, and the Duke of York.
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The three black graces, Law, Physic, and Divinity.
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I saw them go; one horse was blind, The tails of both hung down behind, Their shoes were on their feet.
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For dear is the Emerald Isle of the ocean, Whose daughters are fair as the foam of the wave, Whose sons unaccustom'd to rebel commotion, Tho' joyous, are sober--tho' peaceful, are brave.
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Midnight, yet not a nose From Tower Hill to Piccadilly snored!
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Midnight