If A Man Is Worth Knowing At

Fame Is But An Inscription On A Grave, And Glory The Melancholy Blazon On A Coffin Lid.

There Is Nothing Good In This World Which Time Does Not Improve.

In My Garden, Care Stops At The Gate And Gazes At Me Wistfully Through The Bars.

We Twain Have Met Like The Ships Upon The Sea, Who Behold An Hour's Converse, So Short, So Sweet: One Little Hour! And Then, Away They Speed On Lonely Paths, Through Mist, And Cloud, And Foam, To Meet No More.

Happiness Never Lays Its Finger On Its Pulse. If We Attempt To Steal A Glimpse Of Its Features It Disappears.