This Sort Of Adoration Of

'tis Solitude Should Teach Us How To Die; It Hath No Flatterers; Vanity Can Give, No Hollow Aid; Alone - Man With God Must Strive.

I Do Not Believe In Any Religion, I Will Have Nothing To Do With Immortality. We Are Miserable Enough In This Life Without Speculating Upon Another.

A Drop Of Ink May Make A Million Think.

Yet He Was Jealous, Though He Did Not Show It, For Jealousy Dislikes The World To Know It.

The Mellow Autumn Came, And With It Came The Promised Party, To Enjoy Its Sweets. The Corn Is Cut, The Manor Full Of Game; The Pointer Ranges, And The Sportsman Beats In Russet Jacket;--lynx-like Is His Aim; Full Grows His Bag, And Wonderful His Feats. An, Nutbrown Partridges! An, Brilliant Pheasants! And Ah, Ye Poachers!--'tis No Sport For Peasants.