There's Many A Good Bit O' Work

But What We Strive To Gratify, Though We May Call It A Distant Hope, Is An Immediate Desire; The Future Estate For Which Men Drudge Up City Alleys Exists Already In Their Imagination And Love.

That Farewell Kiss Which Resembles Greeting, That Last Glance Of Love Which Becomes The Sharpest Pang Of Sorrow.

In Every Parting There Is An Image Of Death.

What Courage And Patience Are Wanted For Every Life That Aims To Produce Anything!

I Love Words; They Are The Quoits, The Bows, The Staves That Furnish The Gymnasium Of The Mind.