I Feel My Sinews Slackened With The

Learn To Write Well, Or Not To Write At All.

Death Only This Mysterious Truth Unfolds, The Mighty Soul How Small A Body Holds.

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.

Long Pains, With Use Of Bearing, Are Half Eased.

The People Have A Right Supreme To Make Their Kings, For Kings Are Made For Them. All Empire Is No More Than Pow'r In Trust, Which When Resum'd, Can Be No Longer Just. Successionm For The General Good Design'd, In Its Own Wrong A Nation Cannot Bind.