Tis Sweet To Listen As The Night

I Suppose We Shall Soon Travel By Air-vessels; Make Air Instead Of Sea Voyages; And At Length Find Our Way To The Moon, In Spite Of The Want Of Atmosphere.

Roll On, Deep And Dark Blue Ocean, Roll. Ten Thousand Fleets Sweep Over Thee In Vain. Man Marks The Earth With Ruin, But His Control Stops With The Shore.

The Heart Will Break, But Broken Live On.

All Who Joy Would Win Must Share It. Happiness Was Born A Twin.

The Very Best Of Vineyards Is The Cellar