Since Eve Ate The Apple, Much Depends

Scion Of Chiefs And Monarchs, Where Art Thou? Fond Hope Of Many Nations, Art Thou Dead? Could Not The Grave Forget Thee, And Lay Low Some Less Majestic, Less Beloved Head?

I Have Great Hopes That We Shall Love Each Other All Our Lives As Much As If We Had Never Married At All.

Be Hypocritical, Be Cautious, Be Not What You Seem But Always What You See.

I Cannot Help Thinking That The Menace Of Hell Makes As Many Devils As The Severe Penal Codes Of Inhuman Humanity Make Villains.

How Sweet And Soothing Is This Hour Of Calm! I Thank Thee, Night! For Thou Has Chased Away These Horrid Bodements Which, Amidst The Throng, I Could Not Dissipate; And With The Blessing Of Thy Benign And Quiet Influence Now Will I To My Couch, Although To Rest Is Almost Wronging Such A Night As This.