Truth Is Truth Howe'er It Strike.

Since There My Past Life Lies, Why Alter It?

For Thence A Paradox Which Comforts While It Mocks, - Shall Life Succeed In That It Seems To Fail: What I Aspired To Be, And Was Not, Comforts Me: A Brute I Might Have Been, But Would Not Sink I' The Scale.

Poetry, Like Love, Is Something We Never Truly Say Goodbye To.

For The Preacher's Merit Or Demerit, It Were To Be Wished That The Flaws Were Fewer In The Earthen Vessel, Holding Treasure, But The Main Thing Is, Does It Hold Good Measure Heaven Soon Sets Right All Other Matters!

Mothers, Wives And Maids, These Be The Tools With Which Priests Manage Men.