May My Last Breath Be Drawn Through

It Is Good To Have Friends At Court.

The Trumpet Does Not More Stun You By Its Loudness, Than A Whisper Teases You By Its Provoking Inaudibility.

A Clear Fire, A Clean Hearth, And The Rigour Of The Game.

We Love To Chew The Cud Of A Foregone Vision; To Collect The Scattered Rays Of A Brighter Phantasm, Or Act Over Again, With Firmer Nerves, The Sadder Nocturnal Tragedies.

My Motto Is: Contented With Little, Yet Wishing For More.