Dear To Me Is My Bonnie White

There Is A Vulgar Incredulity, Which In Historical Matters, As Well As In Those Of Religion, Finds It Easier To Doubt Than To Examine.

Thou Hast Had Thty Day, Old Dame, But Thy Sun Has Long Been Set. Thou Art Now The Very Emblem Of An Old Warhorse Turned Out On The Barren Heath; Thou Hast Had Thy Paces In Thy Time, But Now A Broken Amble Is The Best Of Them.

Come He Slow Or Come He Fast It Is But Death That Comes At Last

Alas!... What Is It, Valiant Knight, Save An Offering Of Sacrifice To A Demon Of Vain Glory, And A Passing Through The Fire Of Moloch? What Remains To You As A Prize Of All The Blood You Have Spilled, Of All The Travail And Pain You Have Endured, Of All The Tears Which Your Deeds Have Caused, When Death Hath Broken The Strong Man's Spear, And Overtaken The Speed Of His War-horse?

Ambition Is No Cure For Love!