There Is No Traitor Like Him Whose

So We'll Go No More A-roving So Late Into The Night, Though The Heart Still Be As Loving, And The Moon Still Be As Bright. For The Sword Outwears Its Sheath, And The Soul Outwears The Breast, And The Heart Must Pause To Breathe, And Love Itself Have Rest. Though The Night Was Made For Loving, And The Day Returns Too Soon, Yet We'll Go No More A-roving By The Light Of The Moon.

Hearts Will Break - Yet Brokenly, Live On.

A Quiet Conscience Makes One So Serene.

But Stories Somehow Lengthen When Begun.

I Have A Notion That Gamblers Are As Happy As Most People - Being Always Excited.