I Must Choose Between Despair

A Little Noiseless Noise Among The Leaves, Born Of The Very Sigh That Silence Heaves.

Give Me Books, French Wine, Fruit, Fine Weather And A Little Music Played Out Of Doors By Somebody I Do Not Know.

What Occasions The Greater Part Of The World's Quarrels? Simply This: Two Minds Meet And Do Not Understand Each Other In Time Enough To Prevent Any Shock Of Surprise At The Conduct Of Either Party.

His Religion At Best Is An Anxious Wish,-like That Of Rabelais, A Great Perhaps.

I See A Lily On Thy Brow, With Anguish Moist And Fever Dew; And On Thy Cheek A Fading Rose Fast Withereth Too.