My Boat Is On The Shore, And

Mark! Where His Carnage And His Conquests Cease, He Makes A Solitude And Calls It-peace!

This Man Is Freed From Servile Bands, Of Hope To Rise, Or Fear To Fall; Lord Of Himself, Though Not Of Lands, And Leaving Nothing, Yet Hath All.

I Have Always Believed That All Things Depended Upon Fortune, And Nothing Upon Ourselves.

Well, Well, The World Must Turn Upon Its Axis, And All Mankind Turn With It, Heads Or Tails, And Live And Die, Make Love And Pay Our Taxes, And As The Veering Winds Shift, Shift Our Sails.

Pure Friendship's Well-feigned Blush.