It Is Silliness To Live When To

There's Villainous News Abroad.

This Goodly Frame, The Earth, Seems To Me A Sterile Promontory.

Time Does Not Have The Same Appeal For Every One

When To The Sessions Of Sweet Silent Thought I Summon Up Remembrance Of Things Past, I Sigh The Lack Of Many A Thing I Sought.

It Is Lost At Dice, What Ancient Honor Won.