Luxurious Lobster-nights, Farewell, For Sober, Studious Days!

Jarring Interests Of Themselves Create The According Music Of A Well-mixed State.

But Blind To Former As To Future Fate, What Mortal Knows His Pre-existent State?

I As Little Fear That God Will Damn A Man That Has Charity, As I Hope That The Priests Can Save One Who Has Not.

Fondly We Think We Honor Merit Then, When We But Praise Ourselves In Other Men.

Music Resembles Poetry, In Each Are Nameless Graces Which No Methods Teach, And Which A Master Hand Alone Can Reach.