Books Are Men Of Higher Stature.

I Wish I Were The Lily's Leaf To Fade Upon That Bosom Warm, Content To Wither, Pale And Brief, The Trophy Of Thy Paler Form.

Let Us Be Content To Work To Do The Things We Can, And Not Presume To Fret Because It's Little.

Oh, A Day In The City-square, There Is No Such Pleasure In Life!

Free Men Freely Work: Whoever Fears God, Fears To Sit At Ease.

Nor Myrtle--which Means Chiefly Love: And Love Is Something Awful Which One Dare Not Touch So Early O' Mornings.