Lord Of Himself; That Heritage Of Woe!

The Bright Sun Was Extinguish'd, And The Stars Did Wander Darkling In The Eternal Space.

This Is To Be Along; This, This Is Solitude!

Good Work And Joyous Play Go Hand In Hand. When Play Stops, Old Age Begins. Play Keeps You From Taking Life Too Seriously.

The Keenest Pangs The Wretched Find Are Rapture To The Dreary Void, The Leafless Desert Of The Mind, The Waste Of Feelings Unemployed.

Nothing So Difficult As A Beginning In Poesy, Unless Perhaps The End.