Love spends his all, and still hath store.
Oh, could we lift the future's sable shroud.
Remember that thy heart will shed its pleasures as thine eye its tears, and both leave loathsome furrows.
Love is the art of hearts, and heart or arts.
America, thou half-brother of the world; with something good and bad of every land.
The worst way to improve the world is to condemn it.