In Argument, Truth Always Prevails

I Sometimes Think That The Most Plaintive Ditty Has Brought A Fuller Joy And Of Longer Duration To Its Composer That The Conquest Of Persia To The Macedonian.

Life Is But Sighs; And, When They Cease, 'tis Over.

Ah What Avails The Sceptred Race, Ah What The Form Divine! What Every Virtue, Every Grace! Rose Aylmer, All Were Thine. Rose Aylmer, Whom These Wakeful Eyes May Weep, But Never See, A Night Of Memories And Of Sighs I Consecrate To Thee.

Friendship Is A Vase, Which, When It Is Flawed By Heat, Or Violence, Or Accident, May As Well Be Broken At Once; It Can Never Be Trusted After.

In The Morn Of Life We Are Alert, We Are Heated In Its Noon, And Only In Its Decline Do We Repose.