Put Not Your Trust In Money, But

Me Wretched! Let Me Curr To Quercine Shades! Effund Your Albid Hausts, Lactiferous Maids! O, Might I Vole To Some Umbrageous Clump,-- Depart,--be Off,--excede,--evade,--erump!

Love Is The Master Key That Opens The Gates Of Happiness.

Love Is The Master-key That Opens The Gates Of Happiness, Of Hatred, Of Jealousy, And, Most Easily Of All, The Gate Of Fear.

The Sound Of A Kiss Is Not So Loud As That Of A Cannon, But Its Echo Lasts A Great Deal Longer.

But Friendship Is The Breathing Rose, With Sweets In Every Fold.