God Has Thickly Strewn Infinity With Grandeur.

Sweet April's Tears, Dead On The Hem Of May.

Fine Phrases I Value More Than Bank-notes. I Have Ear For No Other Harmony Than The Harmony Of Words. To Be Occasionally Quoted Is The Only Fame I Care For.

Fame Is But An Inscription On A Grave, And Glory The Melancholy Blazon On A Coffin Lid.

Death, Which We Are Accustomed To Consider An Evil, Really Acts For Us The Friendliest Part, And Takes Away The Commonplace Of Existence.

The Sea Complains Upon A Thousand Shores.