Is Death The Last Sleep? No, It

If You Keep A Thing Seven Years, You Are Sure To Find A Use For It.

I Will But Confess The Sins Of My Green Cloak To My Grey Friar's Frock, And All Shall Be Well Again.

All Live By Seeming. The Beggar Begs With It, And The Gay Courtier Gains Land And Title, Rank And Rule, By Seeming; The Clergy Scorn It Not, And The Bold Soldier Will Eke With It His Service.--all Admit It, All Practise It; And He Who Is Content With Showing What He Is, Shall Have Small Credit In Church, Or Camp, Or State.--so Wags The World.

The Lover's Pleasure, Like That Of The Hunter, Is In The Chase, And The Brightest Beauty Loses Half Its Merit, As The Flower Its Perfume, When The Willing Hand Can Reach It Too Easily. There Must Be Doubt; There Must Be Difficulty And Danger.

Adversity Is, To Me At Least, A Tonic And A Bracer.