Civil Wars Leave Nothing But Tombs.

Inspiration Is Solitary, Never Consecutive.

Poets And Heroes Are Of The Same Race, The Latter Do What The Former Conceive.

Man Is God By His Faculty For Thought.

But Nature Too, Shakes Off Her Sleep Today; By May's Mild Sun We See Reviv'd Her Frame, Around My Window Venus' Birds Proclaim, The Month Most Cherish'd Backwards Bends His Way!

Kindness Is Virtue Itself.