Nature Does Require Her Times Of Preservation.

My Grief Lies Onward, And My Joy Behind.

I Hate Ingratitude More In A Man Than Lying, Vainness, Babbling, Drunkenness, Or Any Taint Of Vice Whose Strong Corruption Inhabits Our Frail Blood".

In Winter's Tedious Nights Sit By The Fire With Good Old Folks, And Let Them Tell Thee Tales Of Woeful Ages, Long Ago Betid

Why, Who Cries Out On Pride That Can Therein Tax Any Private Party? Doth It Not Flow As Hugely As The Sea Till The Weary Very Means Do Ebb?

While We Lie Tumbling In The Hay.