Death! It Is Rest To

Great Men Have Always Had Dogs.

You Have Not A Boat Of Your Own, That Is Just It; That Is What Women Always Suffer From; They Have To Steer, But The Craft Is Some One Else's, And The Haul Too.

When One Has Not Father, Or Mother, Or Brother, And All One's Friends Have Barely Bread Enough For Themselves, Life Cannot Be Very Easy, Nor Its Crusts Very Many At Any Time.

We Only See Clearly When We Have Reached The Depths Of Woe.

There Is No More Terrible Woe Upon Earth Than The Woe Of The Stricken Brain, Which Remembers The Days Of Its Strength, The Living Light Of Its Reason, The Sunrise Of Its Proud Intelligence, And Knows That These Have Passed Away Like A Tale That Is Told.