The Dew Of Compassion Is A Tear.

Since Eve Ate The Apple, Much Depends On Dinner.

Farewell! If Ever Fondest Prayer For Other's Weal Avail'd On High, Mine Will Not All Be Lost In Air, But Waft Thy Name Beyond The Sky.

Poetry Should Only Occupy The Idle.

I Cannot Help Thinking That The Menace Of Hell Makes As Many Devils As The Severe Penal Codes Of Inhuman Humanity Make Villains.

Had Sigh'd To Many, Though He Loved But One.