In Listening Mood She Seemed To Stand,

It Is More Difficult To Look Upon Victory Than Upon Battle.

Honour Is A Homicide And A Bloodspiller, That Gangs About Making Frays In The Street; But Credit Is A Decent Honest Man, That Sits At Hame And Makes The Pat Play.

Thus Aged Men, Full Loth And Slow, The Vanities Of Life Forego, And Count Their Youthful Follies O'er, Till Memory Lends Her Light No More.

It Is Only When I Dally With What I Am About, Look Back And Aside, Instead Of Keeping My Eyes Straight Forward, That I Feel These Cold Sinkings Of The Heart.

The Book Of Books Within This Ample Volume Lies The Mystery Of Mysteries. Happiest They Of Human Race To Whom Their God Has Given Grace To Read, To Fear, To Hope, To Pray, To Lift The Latch, To Force The Way; But Better Had They Ne'er Been Born That Read To Doubt Or Read To Scorn.