Curiosity Kills Itself; And Love Is Only

War, War Is Still The Cry,-"war Even To The Knife!"

The Art Of Angling, The Cruelest, The Coldest And The Stupidest Of Pretended Sports.

'tis Very Certain The Desire Of Life Prolongs It.

This Is To Be Along; This, This Is Solitude!

But Words Are Things, And A Small Drop Of Ink, Falling Like Dew, Upon A Thought, Produces That Which Makes Thousands, Perhaps Millions, Think.