Good But Rarely Came From Good Advice.

Scion Of Chiefs And Monarchs, Where Art Thou? Fond Hope Of Many Nations, Art Thou Dead? Could Not The Grave Forget Thee, And Lay Low Some Less Majestic, Less Beloved Head?

[armenian] Is A Rich Language, However, And Would Amply Repay Any One The Trouble Of Learning It.

This Man Is Freed From Servile Bands, Of Hope To Rise, Or Fear To Fall; Lord Of Himself, Though Not Of Lands, And Leaving Nothing, Yet Hath All.

Glory, Like The Phoenix 'midst Her Fires, Exhales Her Odours, Blazes, And Expires.

I Am The Very Slave Of Circumstance And Impulse -- Borne Away With Every Breath!