Men Are Misers, And Women Prodigal, In

Men Are Misers, And Women Prodigal, In Affection.

Let Us Enjoy The Fugitive Hour. Man Has No Harbor, Time Has No Shore; It Rushes On, And Carries Us With It.

If Greatness Of Purpose, Smallness Of Means, And Astonishing Results Are The Three Criteria Of A Human Genius, Who Could Dare Compare Any Great Man In History With Muhammad?

And When Night, Guiding Her Bright Train Of Stars, Throws O'er The Sleeping World Her Gloomy Veil, Lonely Amidst The Desert And The Darkness, Musing Upon The Night's Calm Majesty; Wrapt Up In Quietness, With Shade And Silence, My Soul More Closely Worshippeth Thy Presence; With An Internal Day I Feel Enlighten'd, And Hear A Voice, Which Biddeth Me To Hope.

Man, It Seems, Is Not Able To Bear The Languid Rest On Nature's Bosom, And When The Trumpet Sounds The Signal Of Danger, He Hastens To Join His Comrades, No Matter What The Cause That Calls Him To Arms. He Rushes Into The Thickest Of The Fight, And Amid The Uproar Of The Battle Regains Confidence In Himself And His Powers.