Some Write A Narrative Of

Twere Better To Be Born A Stone Of Ruder Shape, And Feeling None, Than With A Tenderness Like Mine And Sensibilities So Fine! Ah, Hapless Wretch! Condemn'd To Dwell Forever In My Native Shell, Ordained To Move When Others Please, Not For My Own Content Or Ease; But Toss'd And Buffeted About, Now In The Water And Now Out.

I Am Out Of Humanity's Reach.

The Darkest Day, If You Live Till Tomorrow, Will Have Passed Away.

They Whom Truth And Wisdom Lead, Can Gather Honey From A Weed.

No One Was Ever Scolded Out Of Their Sins.