One who never turned his back but marched breast forward, never doubted clouds would break, Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph, Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, sleep to wake.

grow old with me. the best is yet to be. the last of life for which the first was made.

I dare not so honor my mere wishes and prayers as to put them for a moment beside your noble acts; but this know, I would rather submit to the worst of deaths, so far as pain goes, than have a single dog or cat tortured on the pretence of sparing me a twinge or two.

What of soul was left, I wonder, when the kissing had to stop?

Pleasure must succeed to pleasure, else past pleasure turns to pain

My business is not to remake myself, but to make the absolute best of what God made.

Twere too absurd to slight For the hereafter the todays delight!