A Boy's Will Is The Wind's Will.

Our Blossoms Of Passion, Gay And Luxuriant Flowers, Are Bright And Full Of Fragrance, But They Beguile Us And Lead Us Astray, And Their Odor Is Deadly.

A Life That Is Worth Writing At All Is Worth Writing Minutely.

None But Yourself Who Are Your Greatest Foe.

Southward With Fleet Of Ice Sailed The Corsair Death; Wild And Fast Blew The Blast, And The East-wind Was His Breath.

The Spirit-world Around This World Of Sense Floats Like An Atmosphere, And Everywhere Wafts Through These Earthly Mists And Vapours Dense A Vital Breath Of More Ethereal Air.