How doth the little crocodile Improve his shining tail And pour the waters of the Nile On every golden scale How cheerfully he seems to grin How neatly spreads his claws And welcomes little fishes in With gently smiling jaws!

“In my youth,” said his father, “I took to the law, And argued each case with my wife; And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw, Has lasted the rest of my life.”

Down, down, down. Would the fall never come to an end

Either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly

Currants and gooseberries, Bright-fire-like barberries,

Our grapes fresh from the vine, Pomegranates full and fine,

From the cradle to the grave

Religion Christless, Godless—a book sealed;

“Devil,” I exclaimed

his stature, also, as he approached, seemed to exceed that of man.

A mummy again endued with animation could not be so hideous as that wretch. I had gazed on him while unfinished; he was ugly then, but when those muscles and joints were rendered capable of motion, it became a thing such as even Dante could not have conceived.

. I had worked hard for nearly two years, for the sole purpose of infusing life into an inanimate body

I brought my work near to a conclusion.   The Monster’s Creation   It was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the accomplishment of my toils.

Mankind seem to agree, that children should be left under the management of women during their childhood. Now, from all the observation that I have been able to make, women of sensibility are the most unfit for this task, because they will infallibly, carried away by their feelings, spoil a child’s temper.

I lament that women are systematically degraded by receiving the trivial attentions, which men think it manly to pay to the sex, when, in fact, they are insultingly supporting their own superiority. It is not condescension to bow to an inferior. So ludicrous, in fact, do these ceremonies appear to me, that I scarcely am able to govern my muscles, when I see a man start with eager, and serious solicitude to lift a handkerchief, or shut a door, when the LADY could have done it herself, had she only moved a pace or two.

“They are both gone up to the church to pray. Because I was happy upon the heath, And smil’d among the winter’s snow, They clothed me in the clothes of death, And taught me to sing the notes of woe. And because I am happy and dance and sing, They think they have done me no injury, And are gone to praise God and his Priest and King, Who make up a heaven of our misery.”

He is called by thy name, For he calls himself a Lamb: He is meek & he is mild, He became a little child: I a child & thou a lamb, We are called by his name.

I’m a storyteller. And I would like to tell you a few personal stories about what I like to call “the danger of the single story.”