I Have Great Hopes That We Shall

Fame Is The Thirst Of Youth.

If I Could Always Read, I Should Never Feel The Want Of Company.

'tis Solitude Should Teach Us How To Die; It Hath No Flatterers; Vanity Can Give, No Hollow Aid; Alone - Man With God Must Strive.

Sleep Hath Its Own World, And The Wide Realm Of Wild Reality.

Go Let Thy Less Than Woman's Hand Assume The Distaff Not The Brand.