Blud's Thicker Than Water.

The Lover's Pleasure, Like That Of The Hunter, Is In The Chase, And The Brightest Beauty Loses Half Its Merit, As The Flower Its Perfume, When The Willing Hand Can Reach It Too Easily. There Must Be Doubt; There Must Be Difficulty And Danger.

Love, To Her Ear, Was But A Name, Combin'd With Vanity And Shame; Her Hopes, Her Fears, Her Joys, Were All Bounded Within The Cloister Wall.

True Love's The Gift Which God Has Given To Man Alone Beneath The Heaven: It Is Not Fantasy's Hot Fire, Whose Wishes Soon As Granted Fly; It Liveth Not In Fierce Desire.

I Like A Highland Friend Who Will Stand By Me Not Only When I Am In The Right, But When I Am A Little In The Wrong.

Hail To The Chief Who In Triumph Advances!