Behold The Groves That Shine With Silver

Lend, Lend Your Wings! I Mount! I Fly! O Grave! Where Is Thy Victory? O Death! Where Is Thy Sting?

Woman's At Best A Contradiction Still.

We Ought, In Humanity, No More To Despise A Man For The Misfortunes Of The Mind Than For Those Of The Body, When They Are Such As He Cannot Help; Were This Thoroughly Considered We Should No More Laugh At A Man For Having His Brains Cracked Than For Having His Head Broke.

The Heart Resolves This Matter In A Trice, "men Only Feel The Smart, But Not The Vice.

What Nothing Earthly Gives, Or Can Destroy, The Soul's Calm Sunshine, And The Heart-felt Joy, Is Virtue's Prize.