He Who Breathes Deepest Lives

For None Can Express Thee, Though All Should Approve Thee. I Love Thee So, Dear, That I Only Can Love Thee.

There's Nothing Great Nor Small, Has Said A Poet Of Our Day, Whose Voice Will Ring Beyond The Curfew Of Eve And Not Be Thrown Out By The Matin's Bell.

I Begin To Think That None Are So Bold As The Timid, When They Are Fairly Roused.

Souls Are Dangerous Things To Carry Straight Through All The Spilt Saltpetre Of This World.

Many A Crown Covers Bald Foreheads.