I Drink To The General Joy O’

It Is In Pardoning That We Are Pardoned.

Short Summers Lightly Have A Forward Spring.

Reflection Is The Business Of Man; A Sense Of His State Is His First Duty: But Who Remembereth Himself In Joy? Is It Not In Mercy Then That Sorrow Is Allotted Unto Us?

Women Are Angels, Wooing: Things Won Are Done; Joy's Soul Lies In The Doing: That She Beloved Knows Naught, That Knows Not This-- Men Prize The Thing Ungained More Than It Is.

Love Is The Greatest Of Dreams, Yet The Worst Of Nightmares.