Gray Hairs Are Death's Blossoms.

What Reason, Like The Careful Ant, Draws Laboriously Together, The Wind Of Accident Sometimes Collects In A Moment.

Joy All Creatures Drink At Nature's Bosoms.

Sentimental Poetry Differs From Naive Poetry In That It Relates The Real State At Which The Latter Stops To Ideas And Applies Ideas To That Reality.

I Feel That I Am A Man Of Destiny.

Modest Humility Is Beauty's Crown.