Oh, Poverty Parts Good Company.

Ridicule Often Checks What Is Absurd, And Fully As Often Smothers That Which Is Noble.

Fortune May Raise Up Or Abuse The Ordinary Mortal, But The Sage And The Soldier Should Have Minds Beyond Her Control.

November's Sky Is Chill And Drear, November's Leaf Is Red And Sear.

Heap On More Wood! - The Wind Is Chill; But Let It Whistle As It Will, We'll Keep Our Christmas Merry Still.

I Have Sometimes Thought Of The Final Cause Of Dogs Having Such Short Lives And I Am Quite Satisfied It Is In Compassion To The Human Race; For If We Suffer So Much In Losing A Dog After An Acquaintance Of Ten Or Twelve Years, What Would It Be If They Were To Live Double That Time?