Joy Comes, Grief Goes, We Know Not

Endurance Is The Crowning Quality, And Patience All The Passion Of Great Hearts.

O Reputation! Dearer Far Than Life.

The Eye Is The Notebook Of The Poet.

I Would Hardly Change The Sorrowful Words Of The Poets For Their Glad Ones. Tears Dampen The Strings Of The Lyre, But They Grow The Tensor For It, And Ring Even The Clearer And More Ravishingly.

Stories Now, To Suit A Public Taste, Must Be Half Epigram, Half Pleasant Vice.