Life Is But A Day At Most.

The Lightly-jumping, Glowrin' Trouts, That Thro' My Waters Play.

Pleasures Are Like Poppies Spread: You Seize The Flow'r, Its Bloom Is Shed.

The Best-laid Schemes O' Mice An' Men, Gang Aft A-gley, And Leave Us Nought But Grief And Pain, For Promised Joy.

Apropos, Is Not The Scotch Phrase 'auld Lang Syne' Exceedingly Expressive? I Shall Give You The Verses On The Other Sheet. The Words Of 'auld Lang Syne' Are Good, But The Music Is An Old Air, The Rudiments Of The Modern Tune Of That Name. ... Dare To Be Honest And Fear No Labor. ... Opera Is Where A Man Gets Stabbed In The Back, And Instead Of Dying, He Sings. ... Chords That Vibrate Sweetest Pleasure Thrill The Deepest Notes Of Woe. ... Critics! Those Cut-throat Bandits In The Paths Of Fame.

A Mind That Is Conscious Of Its Integrity Scorns To Say More Than It Means To Perform.