Nature I Loved, And Next

Friendship Is A Vase, Which, When It Is Flawed By Heat, Or Violence, Or Accident, May As Well Be Broken At Once; It Can Never Be Trusted After.

States, Like Men, Have Their Growth, Their Manhood, Their Decrepitude, Their Decay.

The Heart That Once Has Been Bathed In Love's Pure Fountain Retains The Pulse Of Youth Forever.

The Happiest Of Pillows Is Not That Which Love First Presses! It Is That Which Death Has Frowned On And Passed Over.

Fame Often Rests At First Upon Something Accidental, And Often, Too, Is Swept Away, Or For A Time Removed; But Neither Genius Nor Glory, Is Conferred At Once, Nor Do They Glimmer And Fall, Like Drops In A Grotto, At A Shout.