My Tears Are Buried In My Heart,

Ignorance, Far More Than Idleness, Is The Mother Of All The Vices; And How Recent Has Been The Admission, That Knowledge Should Be The Portion Of All? The Destinies Of The Future Lie In Judicious Education; An Education That Must Be Universal, To Be Beneficial.

I Can Pass Days Stretch'd In The Shade Of Those Old Cedar Trees, Watching The Sunshine Like A Blessing Fall,-- The Breeze Like Music Wandering O'er The Boughs, Each Tree A Natural Harp,--each Different Leaf A Different Note, Blent In One Vast Thanksgiving.

My Heart Is Its Own Grave!

I Will Look On The Stars And Look On Thee, And Read The Page Of Thy Destiny.

When Does The Mind Put Forth Its Powers? When Are The Stores Of Memory Unlocked? When Does Wit 'flash From Fluent Lips?' -- When But After A Good Dinner? Who Will Deny Its Influence On The Affections? Half Our Friends Are Born Of Turbots And Truffles.