Time Rolls His Ceaseless Course.

In Love Quarrels The Party That Loves The Most Is Always Most Willing To Acknowledge The Greater Fault.

Merrily, Merrily Goes The Bark On A Breeze From The Northward Free, So Shoots Through The Morning Sky The Lark, Or The Swan Through The Summer Sea.

The Pith Of Conversation Does Not Consist In Exhibiting Your Own Superior Knowledge On Matters Of Small Consequence, But In Enlarging, Improving And Correcting The Information You Possess By The Authority Of Others.

Call It Not Vain: They Do Not Err Who Say That When The Poet Dies Mute Nature Mourns Her Worshipper, And Celebrates His Obsequies.

Whose Lenient Sorrows Find Relief, Whose Joys Are Chastened By Their Grief.