Poetry Is The Morning Dream Of Great

Modesty And Dew Love The Shade.

Ah! Let Us Love, My Love, For Time Is Heartless, Be Happy While You May!

Brutality To An Animal Is Cruelty To Mankind - It Is Only The Difference In The Victim.

Life Is Too Short To Spare An Hour Of It In The Indulgence Of This Evil Passion.

The Death Of A Man's Wife Is Like Cutting Down An Ancient Oak That Has Long Shaded The Family Mansion. Henceforth The Glare Of The World, With Its Cares And Vicissitudes Falls Upon The Old Widower's Heart, And There Is Nothing To Break Their Force, Or Shield Him From The Full Weight Of Misfortune. It Is As If His Right Hand Were Withered; As If One Wing Of His Angel Was Broken, And Every Movement That He Made Brought Him To The Ground.