In Youth All Doors Open Outward; In

Welcome, My Old Friend, Welcome To A Foreign Fireside.

Your Silent Tents Of Green We Deck With Fragrant Flowers; Yours Has The Suffering Been, The Memory Shall Be Ours.

Our Pleasures And Our Discontents, Are Rounds By Which We May Ascend.

A Coquette Is A Young Lady Of More Beauty Than Sense, More Accomplishments Than Learning, More Charms Not Person Than Graces Of Mind, More Admirers Than Friends, Mole Fools Than Wise Men For Attendants.

It Was A High Counsel That I Once Heard Given To A Young Person, - Always Do What You Are Afraid To Do.