What Is Death, So It Be But

All Tragedies Are Finished By A Death, All Comedies Are Ended By A Marriage.

My Altars Are The Mountains And The Ocean.

A Thousand Years May Scare Form A State. An Hour May Lay It In Ruins.

How Sweet And Soothing Is This Hour Of Calm! I Thank Thee, Night! For Thou Has Chased Away These Horrid Bodements Which, Amidst The Throng, I Could Not Dissipate; And With The Blessing Of Thy Benign And Quiet Influence Now Will I To My Couch, Although To Rest Is Almost Wronging Such A Night As This.

What's Drinking? A Mere Pause From Thinking!