If You Keep A Thing Seven Years,

The Time Which Passes Over Our Heads So Imperceptibly Makes The Same Gradual Change In Habits, Manners And Character, As In Personal Appearance. At The Revolution Of Every Five Years We Find Ourselves Another And Yet The Same;--there Is A Change Of Views, And No Less Of The Light In Which We Regard Them; A Change Of Motives As Well As Of Action.

Welcome As The Flowers In May.

Revenge, The Sweetest Morsel To The Mouth That Ever Was Cooked In Hell.

I Will Tear This Folly From My Heart, Though Every Fibre Bleed As I Rend It Away!

Where Shall The Lover Rest, Whom The Fates Sever From His True Maiden's Breast, Parted For Ever? Where, Through Groves Deep And High, Sounds The Far Billow, Where Early Violets Die, Under The Willow.