Clouds On Clouds, In Volumes Driven, Curtain

But Though First Love's Impassioned Blindness Has Passed Away In Colder Light, I Still Have Thought Of You With Kindness, And Shall Do, Till Our Last Goodnight. The Ever-rolling Silent Hours Will Bring A Time We Shall Not Know, When Our Young Days Of Gathering Flowers Will Be An Hundred Years Ago.

I Almost Think It Is The Ultimate Destiny Of Science To Exterminate The Human Race.

The Waste Of Plenty Is The Resource Of Scarcity.

But Still My Fancy Wanders Free Through That Which Might Have Been.

The Highest Wisdom And The Highest Genius Have Been Invariably Accompanied With Cheerfulness. We Have Sufficient Proofs On Record That Shakespeare And Socrates Were The Most Festive Companions.