The Drying Up A Single Tear Has

Tis Sweet To Listen As The Night Winds Creep From Leaf To Leaf.

Oh, Talk Not To Me Of A Name Great In Story; The Days Of Our Youth Are The Days Of Our Glory; And The Myrtle And Ivy Of Sweet Two-and-twenty Are Worth All Your Laurels, Though Ever So Plenty.

What A Strange Thing Is Man! And What A Stranger Is Woman.

A Small Drop Of Ink Makes Thousands, Perhaps Millions... Think.

In England The Only Homage Which They Pay To Virtue - Is Hypocrisy.