When Thus The Heart Is

May My Last Breath Be Drawn Through A Pipe, And Exhaled In A Jest.

An Album Is A Garden, Not For Show Planted, But Use; Where Wholesome Herbs Should Grow.

I Am In Love With The Green Earth.

Reader, If You Are Gifted With Nerves Like Mine, Aspire To Any Character But That Of A Wit.

O Money, Money, How Blindly Thou Hast Been Worshipped, And How Stupidly Abused! Thou Are Health And Liberty And Strength, And He That Has Thee May Rattle His Pockets At The Foul Fiend!