He Who Saddens At Thought Of Idleness

But Were There Ever Any Writhed Not At Passed Joy?

Heard Melodies Are Sweet, But Those Unheard Are Sweeter.

I Have Good Reason To Be Content, For Thank God I Can Read And Perhaps Understand Shakespeare To His Depths.

Even Bees, The Little Almsmen Of Spring Bowers, Know There Is Richest Juice In Poison-flowers.

Death Is Life's High Meed.