By spleen, religion, all we know; That should enlighten here below, Is veiled in darkness, and perplext With anxious doubts, with endless scruples vext And some restraint imply'd from each perverted text; Whilst touch not, taste not what is freely given, Is but thy niggard voice disgracing bounteous Heaven.

intestinal malrotation

“It may be fun for her,” I said with one of my bitter laughs, “but it isn't so diverting for the unfortunate toads beneath the harrow whom she plunges so ruthlessly in the soup.”

We walked a path along the valleyside.