I Counsel Thee, Shut Not Thy Heart,

I Hate The Man Who Eats Without Knowing What He’s Eating. I Doubt His Taste In More Important Things.

How Sickness Enlarges The Dimensions Of A Man's Self To Himself! Supreme Selfishness Is Inculcated Upon Him As His Only Duty.

As Down In The Sunless Retreats Of The Ocean Sweet Flowers Are Springing No Mortal Can See, So Deep In My Soul The Still Prayer Of Devotion, Unheard By The World, Rises Silent To Thee. As Still To The Star Of Its Worship, Though Clouded, The Needle Points Faithfully O'er The Dim Sea, So Dark When I Roam In This Wintry World Shrouded, The Hope Of My Spirit Turns Trembling To Thee.

Satire Does Not Look Pretty Upon A Tombstone.

The Drinking Man Is Never Less Himself Than During His Sober Intervals.