The Dower Of Great Beauty Has Always

Tis Not Where We Lie But Whence We Fell; The Loss Of Heaven's The Greatest Pain In Hell.

Speak No Evil Of Women; I Tell Thee The Meanest Of Them Deserves Respect; For Of Women Do We Not All Come?

And Yet, And Yet, In These Our Ghostly Lives, Half Night, Half Day, Half Sleeping, Half Awake, How If Our Waking Life, Like That Of Sleep, Be All A Dream In That Eternal Life To Which We Wake Not Till We Sleep In Death

No Windows Give A Better View Than Those A Man Brings With Him In His Head, Not Asking For Tickets Of Admission, Since At All Functions, Festivals, Or Feasts He Looks Out With The Same Nice Self-composure.

Green Is The Prime Color Of The World, And That From Which Its Loveliness Arises.