Best Men Oft Are Moulded Out Of

Sit By My Side, And Let The World Slip: We Shall Ne'er Be Younger.

If It Will Feed Nothing Else, It Will Feed My Revenge.

Reflection Is The Business Of Man; A Sense Of His State Is His First Duty: But Who Remembereth Himself In Joy? Is It Not In Mercy Then That Sorrow Is Allotted Unto Us?

For Night's Swift Dragons Cut The Clouds Full Fast, And Yonder Shines Aurora's Harbinger; At Whose Approach Ghosts Wandring Here And There Troop Home To Church-yards.... For Fear Lest Day Should Look Their Shames Upon, They Willfully Exile Themselves From Light, And Must For Aye Consort With Black Brow'd Night.

Good Old Grandsire ... We Shall Be Joyful Of Thy Company.