To Die For Faction Is

As Poetry Is The Harmony Of Words, So Music Is That Of Notes.

Tis Fate That Flings The Dice, And As She Flings Of Kings Makes Peasants, And Of Peasants Kings.

He Has Not Learned The First Lesson Of Life Who Does Not Every Day Surmount A Fear.

Nature Meant Me A Wife, A Silly, Harmless, Household Dove, Fond Without Art, And Kind Without Deceit.

Ill Writers Are Usually The Sharpest Censors.