There Is Nothing Perfectly Secure But Poverty.

Balder The Beautiful Is Dead, Is Dead!

If We Could Read The Secret History Of Our Enemies We Should Find In Each Man's Life Sorrow And Suffering Enough To Disarm All Hostility.

Whatever Poet, Orator, Or Sage May Say Of It, Old Age Is Still Old Age.

There Is A Reaper, Whose Name Is Death, And, With His Sickle Keen, He Reaps The Bearded Grain At A Breath, And The Flowers That Grow Between.

As Turning The Logs Will Make A Dull Fire Burn, So Change Of Studies A Dull Brain.