In Childhood, Death Stirred Me Not; In

Many Sensible Things Banished From High Life Find An Asylum Among The Mob.

We May Have Civilized Bodies And Yet Barbarous Souls.

He Knows Himself, And All That's In Him, Who Knows Adversity.

Benevolent Desires, After Passing A Certain Point, Can Not Undertake Their Own Fulfillment Without Incurring The Risk Of Evils Beyond Those Sought To Be Remedied.

In Our Man-of-war World, Life Comes In At One Gangway And Death Goes Overboard At The Other. Under The Man-of-war Scourge, Cursesmix With Tears; And The Sigh And The Sob Furnish The Bass To The Shrill Octave Of Those Who Laugh To Drown Buried Griefs Of Their Own.