Men Make Their Choice: One Man Honors

Who Knows But Life Be That Which Men Call Death, And Death What Men Call Life?

Oh, Trebly Blest The Placid Lot Of Those Whose Hearth Foundations Are In Pure Love Laid, Where Husband's Breast With Tempered Ardor Glows, And Wife, Oft Mother, Is In Heart A Maid!

Alas, How Right The Ancient Saying Is: We, Who Are Old, Are Nothing Else But Noise And Shape. Like Mimicries Of Dreams We Go, And Have No Wits, Although We Think Us Wise.

The Fiercest Anger Of All, The Most Incurable, Is That Which Rages In The Place Of Dearest Love.

Fortune Truly Helps Those Who Are Of Good Judgment.