Poetry Fettered Fetters The Human Race.

When Nations Grow Old The Arts Grow Cold And Commerce Settles On Every Tree

The Goddess Fortune Is The Devil's Servant, Ready To Kiss Any One's Ass.

Excessive Sorrow Laughs. Excessive Joy Weeps.

Joy And Woe Are Woven Fine, A Clothing For The Soul Divine. Under Every Grief And Pine Runs A Joy With Silken Twine.

When A Man Has Married A Wifehe Finds Out Whetherher Knees & Elbows Are Onlyglued Together.