He That Keeps Not Crust Nor Crum

Old Fashions Please Me Best; I Am Not So Nice To Change True Rules For Odd Inventions.

Just Death, Kind Umpire Of Men's Miseries.

I Fill Up A Place, Which May Be Better... When I Have Made It Empty.

That Strain Again! It Had A Dying Fall: O, It Came O'er My Ear Like The Sweet Sound That Breathes Upon A Bank Of Violets, Stealing And Giving Odour! Enough; No More: 'tis Not So Sweet As It Was Before.

Omission To Do What Is Necessary Seals A Commission To A Blank Of Danger; And Danger, Like An Ague, Subtly Taints Even Then When We Sit Idly In The Sun.