We Oftener Say Things Because We Can

The Siren Waits Thee, Singing Song For Song.

Falsehood Is For A Season.

States, Like Men, Have Their Growth, Their Manhood, Their Decrepitude, Their Decay.

Moroseness Is The Evening Of Turbulence.

Friendship Is A Vase, Which, When It Is Flawed By Heat, Or Violence, Or Accident, May As Well Be Broken At Once; It Can Never Be Trusted After.