Political Men, Like Goats, Usually

O What A Thing Is Age! Death Without Death's Quiet.

I See The Rainbow In The Sky, The Dew Upon The Grass; I See Them, And I Ask Not Why They Glimmer Or They Pass. With Folded Arms I Linger Not To Call Them Back; 'twere Vain: In This, Or In Some Other Spot, I Know They'll Shine Again.

Nothing Is Pleasanter To Me Than Exploring In A Library.

Greatness, As We Daily See It, Is Unsociable.

It Is Delightful To Kiss The Eyelashes Of The Beloved--is It Not? But Never So Delightful As When Fresh Tears Are On Them.