Give Me An Honest Laugher.

The Tear, Down Childhood's Cheek That Flows, Is Like The Dewdrop On The Rose; When Next The Summer Breeze Comes By And Waves The Bush, The Flower Is Dry.

The Summer Dawn's Reflected Hue To Purple Changed Lock Katrine Blue, Mildly And Soft The Western Breeze Just Kiss'd The Lake, Just Stirr'd The Trees, And The Pleased Lake, Like Maiden Coy, Trembled But Dimpled Not For Joy.

Of All Vices, Drinking Is The Most Incompatible With Greatness.

That Day Of Wrath, That Dreadful Day. When Heaven And Earth Shall Pass Away.

Affection Can Withstand Very Severe Storms Of Vigor, But Not A Long Polar Frost Of Indifference.