My Friends Are My Estate.

Eden Is That Old-fashioned House We Dwell In Every Day Without Suspecting Our Abode Until We Drive Away.

I Held A Jewel In My Fingers And Went To Sleep. The Day Was Warm, And Winds Were Prosy; I Said: "'t Will Keep." I Woke And Chid My Honest Fingers,— The Gem Was Gone; And Now An Amethyst Remembrance Is All I Own.

When I State Myself, As The Representative Of The Verse, It Does Not Mean Me, But A Supposed Person.

Anger As Soon As Fed Is Dead- 'tis Starving Makes It Fat.

A Word That Breathes Distinctly Has Not The Power To Die