Knowledge Is Much Like Dust - It

Conscience, Like A Child, Is Soon Lulled To Sleep.

Delicious Tears! The Heart's Own Dew.

It Is Said That Ridicule Is The Test Of Truth; But It Is Never Applied Except When We Wish To Deceive Ourselves - When If We Cannot Exclude The Light, We Would Fain Draw The Curtain Before It. The Sneer Springs Out Of The Wish To Deny; And Wretched Must That State Of Mind Be, That Wishes To Take Refuge In Doubt.

I Never Cast A Flower Away, A Gift Of One Who Car'd For Me; A Flower--a Faded Flower, But It Was Done Reluctantly.

Farewell's A Bitter Word To Say.