Fame Is The Thirst Of Youth.

Though The Day Of My Destiny 's Over, And The Star Of My Fate Hath Declined, Thy Soft Heart Refused To Discover The Faults Which So Many Could Find.

In Solitude, Where We Are Least Alone.

Critics Are Already Made.

'tis Pleasant, Sure, To See One's Name In Print. A Book's A Book, Although There's Nothing In 't.

Father Of Light! Great God Of Heaven! Hear'st Thou The Accents Of Despair? Can Guilt Like Man's Be E'er Forgiven? Can Vice Atone For Crimes By Prayer.