Unless A Tree Has Borne

When Thinking About Companions Gone, We Feel Ourselves Doubly Alone.

I Have Heard Men Talk About The Blessings Of Freedom," He Said To Himself, "but I Wish Any Wise Man Would Teach Me What Use To Make Of It Now That I Have It.

Land Of My Sires! What Mortal Hand Can E'er Untie The Filial Band That Knits Me To Thy Rugged Strand!

We Are Like The Herb Which Flourisheth Most When It Is Most Trampled On.

It Is The Privilege Of Tale-tellers To Open Their Story In An Inn, The Free Rendezvous Of All Travellers, And Where The Humour Of Each Displays Itself, Without Ceremony Or Restraint.