Love scorns degrees; the low he lifteth high,
The high he draweth down to that fair plain
Whereon, in his divine equality,
Two loving hearts may meet, nor meet in vain;
'Gainst such sweet levelling Custom cries amain,
But o'er its harshest utterance one bland sigh,
Breathed passion-wise, doth mount victorious still,
For Love, earth's lord, must have his lordly will.

An old monk perches at the tip of a tree —
but this is only external samadhi!
Master Wu's brush is imbued with spirit,
but even he can't paint the Buddha-Nature!

(This next to be recited in Strine:)
With Robert Hughes on Botany Bay,
I asked, " Eh, mate — have you got any way
To say hello except G'day? "

24 Saturday, 27 January 1753

Longa mora est, quantum noxae sit ubique repertum,
Enumerare.
Ovid [Metam. I 214 15]

The various ills ordain'd to man by fate
Where'er he turns, 'tis tedious to relate.

46 Saturday, 25 August 1750

Genus, et proavos, et quae non fecimus ipsi,
Vix ea nostra voco.
Ovid [Metam. XIII 140 41]

Nought from my birth or ancestors I claim;
All is my own, my honour and my shame.

From the cities where from caves,
Like the dead from putrid graves,
Troops of starvelings gliding come,
Living Tenants of a tomb.

I have always found that Angels have the vanity to speak of themselves as the only wise; this they do with a confident insolence sprouting from systematic reasoning:
Thus Swedenborg boasts that what he writes is new: tho' it is only the Contents or Index of already publish'd books

Chorus
Let the Priests of the Raven of dawn, no longer in deadly black. with hoarse
note curse the sons of joy. Nor his accepted brethren whom, tyrant, he calls
free: lay the bound or build the roof. Nor pale religious letchery call that
virginity, that wishes but acts not!

For every thing that lives is Holy

As I was walking among the fires of hell, delighted with the enjoyments of Genius, which to Angels look like torment and insanity, I collected some of their Proverbs; thinking that as the sayings used in a nation mark its character, so the Proverbs of Hell shew the nature of Infernal Wisdom better than any description of buildings or garments.
When I came home: on the abyss of the five senses, where a flat sided steep
frowns over the present world, I saw a mighty Devil folded in black clouds,

Who would have thought that face of thine
Had been so full of doubleness?
Or else within those crystal eyne
Had rest so much unstableness?
Thy face so fair, thy look so strange,
Who would have thought so full of change?