And Empty Heads Console With Empty Sound.

How Happy Is The Blameless Vestal's Lot? The World Forgetting, By The World Forgot.

Words Are Like Leaves; And Where They Most Abound, Much Fruit Of Sense Beneath Is Rarely Found.

Remembrance And Reflection How Allied. What Thin Partitions Divides Sense From Thought.

For Critics, As They Are Birds Of Prey, Have Ever A Natural Inclination To Carrion.

What's Fame? A Fancy'd Life In Other's Breath. A Thing Beyond Us, Even Before Our Death.