The Devil Was The First Democrat

I Should, Many A Good Day, Have Blown My Brains Out, But For The Recollection That It Would Have Given Pleasure To My Mother-in-law.

As Falls The Dew On Quenchless Sands, Blood Only Serves To Wash Ambition's Hands.

But At Sixteen The Conscience Rarely Gnaws So Much, As When We Call Our Old Debts In At Sixty Years, And Draw The Accounts Of Evil, And Find A Deuced Balance With The Devil.

Perhaps The Early Grave Which Men Weep Over May Be Meant To Save.

I Had A Dream, Which Was Not At All A Dream.