No Author Ever Spar'd A Brother.

Breathe Soft, Ye Winds! Ye Waves, In Silence Sleep!

You Can Only Be Called A Hypocrite If You Judge Others First.

One Common Fate We Both Must Prove; You Die With Envy, I With Love.

Envy Is A Kind Of Praise.

Were I Laid On Greenland's Coast, And In My Arms Embrac'd My Lass; Warm Amidst Eternal Frost, Too Soon The Half Year's Night Would Pass.