Merit, God Knows, Is Very Little Rewarded.

We Are Nothing; Less Than Nothing, And Dreams. We Are Only What Might Have Been.

My Theory Is To Enjoy Life, But My Practice Is Against It.

Our Spirits Grow Gray Before Our Hairs.

A Poor Relation—is The Most Irrelevant Thing In Nature.

Oft In The Stilly Night, Ere Slumber's Chain Has Bound Me, Fond Memory Brings The Light Of Other Days Around Me; The Smiles, The Tears, Of Boyhood's Years, The Words Of Love Then Spoken; The Eyes That Shone Now Dimmed And Gone, The Cheerful Hearts Now Broken.