Our Memories Are Independent Of Our Wills.

I Ne'er Could Any Lustre See In Eyes That Would Not Look On Me; I Ne'er Saw Nectar On A Lip But Where My Own Did Hope To Sip.

There Is Not A Passion So Strongly Rooted In The Human Heart As Envy.

There Are A Set Of Malicious, Prating, Prudent Gossips, Both Male And Female, Who Murder Characters To Kill Time; And Will Rob A Young Fellow Of His Good Name Before He Has Years To Know The Value Of It.

When Delicate And Feeling Souls Are Separated, There Is Not A Feature In The Sky, Not A Movement Of The Elements, Not An Aspiration Of The Breeze, But Hints Some Cause For A Lover's Apprehension.

Believe Not Each Accusing Tongue, As Most Weak Persons Do; But Still Believe That Story Wrong, Which Ought Not To Be True!