Have Hope. Though clouds environs now, And gladness hides her face in scorn, Put thou the shadow from thy brow, - No night but hath its morn.

Revenge is barren of itself: it is the dreadful food it feeds on; its delight is murder, and its end is despair.

Who dares nothing, need hope for nothing.

For the world is only governed by self-interest.

Courage, ne'er by sorrow broken! Aid where tears of virtue flow; Faith to keep each promise spoken! Truth alike to friend and foe!

Most gladly would I give the blood-stained laurel for the first violet which March brings us, the fragrant pledge of the new-fledged year.

Truth is more than a dream and a song.