The Mountain Sheep Are Sweeter, But The

Names Are Changed More Readily Than Doctrines, And Doctrines More Readily Than Ceremonies.

Seamen Three! What Men Be Ye? Gotham's Three Wise Men We Be. Whither In Your Bowl So Free? To Rake The Moon From Out The Sea. The Bowl Goes Trim. The Moon Doth Shine, And Our Ballast Is Old Wine.

Laughter Is Pleasant, But The Exertion At My Age Is Too Much For Me.

Death Comes To All. His Cold And Sapless Hand Waves O'er The World, And Beckons Us Away. Who Shall Resist The Summons?

My Quarrel With Him Is, That His Works Contain Nothing Worth Quoting; And A Book That Furnishes No Quotations, Is Me Judice, No Book,—it Is A Plaything.