Every Man Is A Borrower And A

Drudgery, Calamity, Exasperation, Want, Are Instructors In Eloquence And Wisdom.

Travel Is A Fools Paradise.

The South-wind Brings Life, Sunshine And Desire, And On Every Mount And Meadow Breathes Aromatic Fire; But Over The Dead He Has No Power, The Lost, The Lost, He Cannot Restore; And, Looking Over The Hills, I Mourn The Darling Who Shall Not Return.

To Go Into Solitude, A Man Needs To Retire As Much From His Chamber As From Society. I Am Not Solitary Whilst I Read And Write, Though Nobody Is With Me. But If A Man Would Be Alone, Let Him Look At The Stars.

The Reason Of Idleness And Of Crime Is The Deferring Of Our Hopes.