Maidens, Like Moths, Are Ever Caught, By

But Stories Somehow Lengthen When Begun.

Smiles Form The Channels Of A Future Tear.

Father Of Light! Great God Of Heaven! Hear'st Thou The Accents Of Despair? Can Guilt Like Man's Be E'er Forgiven? Can Vice Atone For Crimes By Prayer.

A Quiet Conscience Makes One So Serene.

Self Praise Is No Praise At All.