No Hand Can Make The Clock Strike

In General I Do Not Draw Well With Literary Men -- Not That I Dislike Them But I Never Know What To Say To Them After I Have Praised Their Last Publication.

Old Man! 'tis Not Difficult To Die.

Oh That The Desert Were My Dwelling-place, With One Fair Spirit For My Minister

I Loved My Country, And I Hated Him.

Who Falls From All He Knows Of Bliss, Cares Little Into What Abyss.