The Muses Were Dumb While Apollo Lectured.

The Truant Fancy Was A Wanderer Ever.

Satire Does Not Look Pretty Upon A Tombstone.

Not Many Sounds In Life, And I Include All Urban And All Rural Sounds, Exceed In Interest A Knock At The Door.

Oft In The Stilly Night, Ere Slumber's Chain Has Bound Me, Fond Memory Brings The Light Of Other Days Around Me; The Smiles, The Tears, Of Boyhood's Years, The Words Of Love Then Spoken; The Eyes That Shone Now Dimmed And Gone, The Cheerful Hearts Now Broken.

Philanthropy, Like Charity, Must Begin At Home.