There Is A Budding Morrow In Midnight.

Failure Is, In A Sense, The Highway To Success.

I Have Nothing To Speak Of But My Self-and What Can I Say But What I Feel.

One Of The Most Mysterious Of Semi-speculations Is, One Would Suppose, That Of One Mind's Imagining Into Another

When Old Age Shall This Generation Waste, Thou Shalt Remain, In Midst Of Other Woe Than Ours, A Friend To Man, To Whom Thou Say'st, "beauty Is Truth, Truth Beauty," - That Is All Ye Know On Earth, And All Ye Need To Know.

Now A Soft Kiss - Aye, By That Kiss, I Vow An Endless Bliss.