Contentions Fierce, Ardent, And Dire, Spring From

The Way Was Long, The Wind Was Cold, The Minstrel Was Infirm And Old; His Withered Cheek, And Tresses Gray, Seemed To Have Know A Better Day.

The Book Of Books Within This Ample Volume Lies The Mystery Of Mysteries. Happiest They Of Human Race To Whom Their God Has Given Grace To Read, To Fear, To Hope, To Pray, To Lift The Latch, To Force The Way; But Better Had They Ne'er Been Born That Read To Doubt Or Read To Scorn.

Give Me An Honest Laugher.

I Will Tear This Folly From My Heart, Though Every Fibre Bleed As I Rend It Away!

For Monarchs Seldom Sigh In Vain.