O What A Thing Is Age! Death

Cruelty Is No More The Cure Of Crimes Than It Is The Cure Of Sufferings; Compassion, In The First Instance, Is Good For Both; I Have Known It To Bring Compunction When Nothing Else Would.

God Scatters Beauty As He Scatters Flowers O'er The Wide Earth, And Tells Us All Are Ours. A Hundred Lights In Every Temple Burn, And At Each Shrine I Bend My Knee In Turn.

Heat And Animosity, Contest And Conflict, May Sharpen The Wits, Although They Rarely Do; They Never Strengthen The Understanding, Clear The Perspicacity, Guide The Judgment, Or Improve The Heart.

As The Pearl Ripens In The Obscurity Of Its Shell, So Ripens In The Tomb All The Fame That Is Truly Precious.

Immoderate Power, Like Other Intemperance, Leaves The Progeny Weaker And Weaker, Until Nature As In Compassion Covers It With Her Mantle And It Is Seen No More.