This Is To Be Along; This, This

There Is Pleasure In The Pathless Woods.

A Thousand Years May Scare Form A State. An Hour May Lay It In Ruins.

Yet Truth Will Sometimes Lend Her Noblest Fires, And Decorate The Verse Herself Inspires: This Fact, In Virtue's Name, Let Crabbe Attest,- Though Nature's Sternest Painter, Yet The Best.

Never To Talk To Ones Self Is A Form Of Hypocrisy

But There Are Wanderers O'er Eternity Whose Bark Drives On And On, And Anchor'd Ne'er Shall Be.