That Prose Is A Verse, And Verse

Dim With The Mist Of Years, Gray Flits The Shade Of Power.

Every Day Confirms My Opinion On The Superiority Of A Vicious Life, And If Virtue Is Not Its Own Reward, I Don't Know Any Other Stipend Annexed To It.

Rough Johnson, The Great Moralist.

Fair Greece! Sad Relic Of Departed Worth! Immortal, Though No More! Though Fallen, Great!

If I Don't Write To Empty My Mind, I Go Mad.