I Have Great Hopes That We Shall

Accursed Be The City Where The Laws Would Stifle Nature's!

The Waves Were Dead; The Tides Were In Their Grave, The Moon, Their Mistress, Had Expir'd Before; The Winds Were Wither'd In The Stagnant Air, And The Clouds Perish'd; Darkness Had No Need Of Aid From Them-she Was The Universe.

For Pleasures Past I Do Not Grieve, Nor Perils Gathering Near; My Greatest Grief Is That I Leave Nothing That Claims A Tear.

The Reading Or Non-reading A Book Will Never Keep Down A Single Petticoat.

Cervantes Smiled Spain's Chivalry Away.