Die Of A Rose In Aromatic Pain.

Words Are Like Leaves; And Where They Most Abound, Much Fruit Of Sense Beneath Is Rarely Found.

He Knows To Live Who Keeps The Middle State, And Neither Leans On This Side Nor On That.

To Err Is Human; To Forgive, Divine.

Oh, Blindness To The Future! Kindly Giv'n, That Each May Fill The Circle Mark'd By Heaven.

Never Elated While One Man's Oppress'd; Never Dejected While Another's Blessed.