Work, Which Makes A Man Free, And

To Rise From Error To Truth Is Rare And Beautiful.

There Are Many Tongues To Talk, And But Few Heads To Think.

Jean Prouvaire Was Timid Only In Repose. Once Excited, He Burst Forth, A Sort Of Mirth Accentuated His Enthusiasm, And He Was At Once Both Laughing And Lyric.

The Man Is Placed Where The Earth Ends, The Woman, Where The Heaven Starts.

We Are All Under Sentence Of Death, But With A Sort Of Indefinite Reprieve.