The First Pale Blossom Of The Unripened

We Neither Laugh Alone, Nor Weep Alone, Why Then Should We Pray Alone?

We Can Only Love What We Know.

And When Midst Fallen London, They Survey The Stone Where Alexander's Ashes Lay, Shall Own With Humbled Pride The Lesson Must By Time's Slow Finger Written In The Dust.

If An Author Would Have Us Feel A Strong Degree Of Compassion, His Characters Must Not Be Too Perfect.

Society Than Solitude Is Worse, And Man To Man Is Still The Greatest Curse.