Oh, The Little Birds Sang East, And

Men Get Opinions As Boys Learn To Spell By Reiteration Chiefly.

He Lives Most Life Whoever Breathes Most Air.

Of Writing Many Books There Is No End; And I Who Have Written Much In Prose And Verse For Others' Uses, Will Write Now For Mine,- Will Write My Story For My Better Self, As When You Paint Your Portrait For A Friend, Who Keeps It In A Drawer And Looks At It Long After He Has Ceased To Love You, Just To Hold Together What He Was And Is.

Quick-loving Hearts ... May Quickly Loathe.

We Overstate The Ills Of Life, And Take Imagination... Down Our Earth To Rake.