I Will Be Conquered; I Will Not

A Country Is In A Bad State, Which Is Governed Only By Laws; Because A Thousand Things Occur For Which Laws Cannot Provide, And Where Authority Ought To Interpose.

London! The Needy Villain's General Home, The Common Sewer Of Paris And Of Rome! With Eager Thirst, By Folly Or By Fate, Sucks In The Dregs Of Each Corrupted State.

Labor's Face Is Wrinkled With The Wind, And Swarthy With The Sun.

Those Who Attempt Nothing Themselves Think Every Thing Easily Performed, And Consider The Unsuccessful Always As Criminal.

Catch, Then, Oh! Catch The Transient Hour, Improve Each Moment As It Flies; Life's A Short Summer-man A Flower; He Dies-alas! How Soon He Dies!