Sure, I Rose The Wrong

Fantastic Fortune Thou Deceitful Light, That Cheats The Weary Traveler By Night, Though On A Precipice Each Step You Tread, I Am Resolved To Follow Where You Lead.

Here Lies A Proof That Wit Can Never Be Defence Enough Against Mortality

'twas But A Dream, Yet By My Heart I Knew, Which Still Was Panting, Part Of It Was True: Oh How I Strove The Rest To Have Believed; Ashamed And Angry To Be Undeceived!

That Perfect Tranquillity Of Life, Which Is Nowhere To Be Found But In Retreat, A Faithful Friend And A Good Library.

Nothing Is More Capable Of Troubling Our Reason, And Consuming Our Health, Than Secret Notions Of Jealousy In Solitude.