The Past Is Perpetual Youth To The

We Are Ourselves The Stumbling-blocks In The Way Of Our Happiness. Place A Common Individual - By Common, I Mean With The Common Share Of Stupidity, Custom, And Discontent - Place Him In The Garden Of Eden, And He Would Not Find It Out Unless He Were Told, And When Told, He Would Not Believe It.

What Is Life? A Gulf Of Troubled Waters, Where The Soul, Like A Vexed Bark, Is Tossed Upon The Waves Of Pain And Pleasure By The Wavering Breath Of Passions.

Eyes That Droop Like Summer Flowers.

Farewell's A Bitter Word To Say.

My Heart Is Its Own Grave!