No ear can hear nor tongue can tell the tortures of the inward hell!

Be thou the rainbow in the storms of life. The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray.

Few things surpass old wine; and they may preach Who please, the more because they preach in vain

I can't but say it is an awkward sight To see one's native land receding through The growing waters; it unmans one quite, Especially when life is rather new.

For the night Shows stars and women in a better light.

Sorrow is knowledge, those that know the most must mourn the deepest, the tree of knowledge is not the tree of life.

So for a good old-gentlemanly vice, I think I must take up with avarice.