Death Is The Golden Key That Opens

Our Country Is Where Ever We Are Well Off.

For Liberty Hath A Sharp And Double Edge, Fit Only To Be Handled By Just And Virtuous Men; To Bad And Dissolute, It Becomes A Mischief Unwieldy In Their Own Hands.

In Naked Beauty More Adorn'd, More Lovely Than Pandora.

Come To The Sunset Tree! The Day Is Past And Gone; The Woodman's Axe Lies Free, And The Reaper's Work Is Done.

Look Homeward, Angel, Now, And Melt With Ruth.