To Those Who Know Thee Not, No

Where Bright Imagination Reigns, The Fine-wrought Spirit Feels Acuter Pains.

Imagination Frames Events Unknown, In Wild, Fantastic Shapes Of Hideous Ruin, And What It Fears Creates.

There Are Only Two Bad Things In This World, Sin And Bile.

The Sober Comfort, All The Peace Which Springs From The Large Aggregate Of Little Things.

The Roses Of Pleasure Seldom Last Long Enough To Adorn The Brow Of Him Who Plucks Them; For They Are The Only Roses Which Do Not Retain Their Sweetness After They Have Lost Their Beauty.