All Heiresses Are Beautiful.

When He Spoke, What Tender Words He Used! So Softly, That Like Flakes Of Feathered Snow, They Melted As They Fell.

Dreams Are But Interludes, Which Fancy Makes; When Monarch Reason Sleeps, This Mimic Wakes.

He Who Proposes To Be An Author Should First Be A Student.

Nothing To Build, And All Things To Destroy.

For All The Happiness Mankind Can Gain Is Not In Pleasure, But In Rest From Pain.