Wisdom Cries Out In The Streets, And

Then With The Losers Let It Sympathize, For Nothing Can Seem Foul To Those That Win.

They Do Not Love That Do Not Show Their Love.

That Which In Mean Men We Entitle Patience Is Pale Cold Cowardice In Noble Breasts.

The World Must Be Peopled!

Rude Am I In My Speech, And Little Blessed With The Soft Phrase Of Peace.