Half Of The Failures In Life Come

Experience Enables Me To Depose To The Comfort And Blessing That Literature Can Prove In Seasons Of Sickness And Sorrow.

Oh! God! That Bread Should Be So Dear, And Flesh And Blood So Cheap!

Extremes Meet', As The Whiting Said With Its Tail In Its Mouth.

I Saw Old Autumn In The Misty Morn Stand Shadowless Like Silence, Listening To Silence, For No Lonely Bird Would Sing Into His Hollow Ear From Woods Forlorn, Nor Lowly Hedge Nor Solitary Thorn;- Shaking His Languid Locks All Dewy Bright With Tangled Gossamer That Fell By Night, Pearling His Coronet Of Golden Corn.

Oh, If It Be To Choose And Call Thee Mine, Love, Thou Art Every Day My Valentine!