Death Ends Our Woes, And The Kind

Heaven Be Thanked, We Live In Such An Age, When No Man Dies For Love, But On The Stage.

Happy The Man, And Happy He Alone, He Who Can Call Today His Own; He Who, Secure Within, Can Say, Tomorrow Do Thy Worst, For I Have Lived Today.

For What Can Power Give More Than Food And Drink, To Live At Ease, And Not Be Bound To Think?

The Blushing Beauties Of A Modest Maid.

Pity Melts The Mind To Love.