Smooth Runs The Water Where The Brook

Night's Candles Have Burned Out, And Jocund Day Stands Tiptoe On The Misty Mountaintops." Hope Tinged With Melancholy - Like Life.

Grace Me No Grace, Nor Uncle Me No Uncle; I Am No Traitor's Uncle, And That Word "grace" In An Ungracious Mouth Is But Profane.

Time ... Thou Ceaseless Lackey To Eternity.

Ingratitude Is Monstrous; And For The Multitude To Be Ingrateful Were To Make A Monster Of The Multitude; Of Which We Being Members, Should Bring Ourselves To Be Monstrous Members.

If There Be No Great Love In The Beginning, Yet Heaven May Decrease It Upon Better Acquaintance, When We Are Married And Have More Occasion To Know One Another: I Hope, Upon Familiarity Will Grow More Contempt.