I Wish You All The

No Profit Grows Where No Pleasure Is Taken.

Love Goes Toward Love As Schoolboys From Their Books, But Love From Love, Toward School With Heavy Looks.

For What Is Wedlock Forced But A Hell, An Age Of Discord And Continual Strife? Whereas The Contrary Bringeth Bliss, And Is A Pattern Of Celestial Peace.

What Should We Speak Of When We Are Old As You? When We Shall Hear The Rain And Wind Beat Dark December? How, In This Our Pinching Cave, Shall We Discourse The Freezing Hours Away?

That Strain Again! It Had A Dying Fall: O, It Came O'er My Ear Like The Sweet Sound That Breathes Upon A Bank Of Violets, Stealing And Giving Odour! Enough; No More: 'tis Not So Sweet As It Was Before.