Civilization is the lamb's skin in which barbarism masquerades. - Thomas Bailey Aldrich

Or light or dark, or short or tall,
She sets a springe to snare them all:
All's one to her—above her fan
She'd make sweet eyes at Caliban.

If you chance to live in a town where the authorities cannot rest until they have destroyed every precious tree within their blighting reach, you will be especially charmed by the beauty of the streets of Portsmouth. In some parts of the town, when the chestnuts are in blossom, you would fancy yourself in a garden in fairyland.

Dear Lord, though I be changed to senseless clay.
And serve the potter as he turns his wheel,
I thank thee for the precious gift of tears!