Falsehood Is For A Season.

But I Have Sinuous Shells Of Pearly Hue Within, And They That Lustre Have Imbibed In The Sun's Palace-porch, Where When Unyoked Chariot-wheel Stands Midway In The Wave: Shake One, And It Awakens; Then Apply Its Polisht Lips To Your Attentive Ear, And It Remembers Its August Abodes, And Murmurs As The Ocean Murmurs There.

As There Are Some Flowers Which You Should Smell But Slightly To Extract All That Is Pleasant In Them ... So There Are Some Men With Whom A Slight Acquaintance Is Quite Sufficient To Draw Out All That Is Agreeable; A More Intimate One Would Be Unsafe And Unsatisfactory.

The Present, Like A Note In Music, Is Nothing But As It Appertains To What Is Past And What Is To Come.

Great Men Too Often Have Greater Faults Than Little Men Can Find Room For.

Contentment Is Better Than Divinations Or Visions.