War Is A Trade Of

And, Dying, Bless The Hand That Gave The Blow.

Death Ends Our Woes, And The Kind Grave Shuts Up The Mournful Scene.

The Gods, (if Gods To Goodness Are Inclined If Acts Of Mercy Touch Their Heavenly Mind), And, More Than All The Gods, Your Generous Heart, Conscious Of Worth, Requite Its Own Desert!

Fiction Is Of The Essence Of Poetry As Well As Of Painting; There Is A Resemblance In One Of Human Bodies, Things, And Actions Which Are Not Real, And In The Other Of A True Story By Fiction.

Maintain Your Post: That's All The Fame You Need; For 'tis Impossible You Should Proceed.