The Wings Of Time Are Black And

Every Ship Is A Romantic Object, Except That We Sail In. Embark, And The Romance Quits Our Vessel, And Hangs On Every Other Sail In The Horizon.

The Worst Of Charity Is That The Lives You Are Asked To Preserve Are Not Worth Preserving.

The Society Of The Energetic Class, In Their Friendly And Festive Meetings, Is Full Of Courage, And Of Attempts, Which Intimidatethe Pale Scholar.

There Is A Good Ear, In Some Men, That Draws Supplies To Virtue Out Of Very Indifferent Nutriment.

...what Torments Of Pain Have You Endured That Haven't As Yet Arrived? And May Never!