She snuggled against me, while from the other side a boy was amateurishly trying to pick my pocket. I opened my mouth to protest, but thought better of it. Why make a scene at the end of such an enjoyable evening?

If we take not the law of weldoing from our selves: if impunity be justice in us: to how many kindes of treacherie are we daily to abandon our selves?

She's a mean mistreater, and she don't mean me no good.

I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated / To closeness and the bettering of my mind …