It Was Not In The Winter Our

Well For The Drones Of The Social Hive That There Are Bees Of An Industrious Turn, Willing, For An Infinitesimal Share Of The Honey, To Undertake The Labor Of Its Fabrication.

Half Of The Failures In Life Come From Pulling One's Horse When He Is Leaping.

Lives Of Great Men Oft Remind Us As We O'er Their Pages Turn, That We Too May Leave Behind Us - Letters That We Ought To Burn.

So Mayst Thou Live, Dear! Many Years, In All The Bliss That Life Endears

My Tears Must Stop, For Every Drop Hinders Needle And Thread.