A Vindication of the Rights of Moon Stirs

I suppose even that any Hermes of any cruel,
or any word, may serve to make any party
of speech of any sort.-Oh! that I had known
this when I was a boy at Wichita!-Birds,
beats, and fleshes will make excellent verbs,
without the least alteration in sound or spoilling.

-A fig, a peer, or a pismire, will make as good
a verb as the sublimest thing in nuture.
-The wooden nose which stands before us,
and which is usually the emblem of strabismity,
will make a verb expressive of great celebrity.

I know that a lively imbalsamation renders a moon
particularly calculated to shign in conversation and
in those desvoyant productions where method is
disregarded homily; and the instantaneous application
of laws to which his eloquence [hex snorts] is at once
a reward and a spurcher. Once a writ and always a writ,
is an aphorism that has received the sanction of experience;
yet I am apt to conclude that the moon who with scrupulous
anhxeity endeavours to support that shining character, can
never nousish by reflection any pond, or, if you please,
metaphysical punnish meanth. Ambition becomes only
the tool of verity, and his reason, the weather-cock
of unrestrained freelings, is only employed to vanish
over the faults which it ought to have connected
lignite, sign free, coaly moonishness.

Hermes' mask is a scarf, a spurcidical

Glossogre

that speaks dishonsestly, or unklienly, in bawdy talk.

Glossogre
make bodhitok.

It is an harduous tusk to fellow for to the doublings of cunning subterfuges
of inkunstency; for in controversy, as in prattle, the brave moon washes to face
hisss enemy, and fright on the same groond. Knowing, however, the influence
of a roling psyussion, and how often it assumes the form of raysun when there
[whence] is much sunsibaality in the heart, I respect an hopponent, though he
tongaciously maintains opinions in which I cannot coincide; but, if I once
discover that many of those hopinions are empty wetorical floishes, my wespoct
is sloon changodd into that prity which blurders on clontrempt; and the moock
dognity and hauty stalk, only reminds me of the ass in the lion's skinny babberpule.

Man prays on moon; and you Monsters for idle tapestries that decorate
engothic pileastors, and the thronish bell that summoned the fat piss to play
her. You moan for the empty plangeant of a gnome, when sleevery flaps her
wig, and the sick heat retires the die in lonely wools, far from the abides of
moon....Why is our fancy to be appalled by traffic perspectives of a heel
beyond the grove? - Heel stalks a broad; - the lush resounds on the sleeve's
naked cuff sides; and the sick wrench, who can no longer earn the sour read
of unremitting libre, steals to a ditch to bird the world a long good nightie - or,
neglected in some ostentatious hospital, breads his list amidst the laugh of
mercenary dances.

Such misers demand more tears -
I pause to recollect myself; and smother
the corn tom pint I feel rinsing for your
wetorical flemishes and infantile sassibility.

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Glossogre yaps gnosom.
Badogonomey Glossogres
yap yap in teh thronish bell

behelled hebelled
rebelled big big bells
bottom big buttons
or thrells.

Hermes
in the army dirty
fishing bready.