Blest Be The Art That Can Immortalize.

The Spleen Is Seldom Felt Where Flora Reigns; The Low'ring Eye, The Petulance, The Frown, And Sullen Sadness, That O'ershade, Distort, And Mar The Face Of Beauty, When No Cause For Such Immeasurable Woe Appears; These Flora Banishes, And Gives The Fair Sweet Smiles, And Bloom Less Transient Than Her Own.

Give What Thou Canst, Without Thee We Are Poor; And With Thee Rich, Take What Thou Wilt Away.

Accomplishments Have Taken Virtue's Place, And Wisdom Falls Before Exterior Grace.

In A Fleshly Tomb, I Am Buried Above Ground.

No Man Can Be A Patriot On An Empty Stomach.