A Poem Round And Perfect As A

I Would Rather Be Remembered By A Song Than By A Victory.

I Have Learned To Prize The Quiet, Lightning Deed, Not The Applauding Thunder At Its Heels That Men Call Fame.

Winter Does Not Work Only On A Broad Scale; He Is Careful In Trifles.

Death Is The Ugly Fact Which Nature Has To Hide, And She Hides It Well.

In Life There Is Nothing More Unexpected And Surprising Than The Arrivals And Departures Of Pleasure. If We Find It In One Place Today, It Is Vain To Seek It There Tomorrow. You Can Not Lay A Trap For It.