Our Affections, However Laudable, In This Transitory

I Believe That The Heaviest Blow Ever Dealt At Liberty's Head Will Be Dealt By This Nation In The Ultimate Failure Of Its Example To The Earth.

Moths, And All Sorts Of Ugly Creatures, Hover About A Lighted Candle. Can The Candle Help It?

One Should Never Be Ashamed To Cry. Tears Are Rain On The Dust Of Earth.

Father Time Is Not Always A Hard Parent And Though He Tarries For None Of His Children, Often Lays His Hand Lightly Upon Those Who Have Used Him Well; Making Them Old Men And Women Inexorably Enough, But Leaving Their Hearts And Spirits Young And In Full Vigor. With Such People The Gray Head Is But The Impression Of The Old Fellow's Hand In Giving Them His Blessing, And Every Wrinkle But A Notch In The Quiet Calendar Of A Well-spent Life.

The Meagre Lighthouse All In White, Haunting The Seaboard, As If It Were The Ghost Of An Edifice That Had Once Had Colour And Rotundity, Dripped Melancholy Tears After Its Late Buffeting By The Waves.