Day's Lustrous Eyes Grow Heavy In Sweet

Satisfied If They Themselves Can Escape From The Hard Labour Of Thought, They Willingly Abandon To Others The Guardianship Of Their Thoughts.

What Else Is Chance But The Rude Stone Which Receives Its Life From The Sculptor's Hand? Providence Gives Us Chance, And Man Must Mould It To His Own Designs.

Folly, Thou Conquerest, And I Must Yield! Against Stupidity The Very Gods Themselves Contend In Vain. Exalted Reason, Resplendent Daughter Of The Head Divine, Wise Foundress Of The System Of The World, Guide Of The Stars, Who Are Thou Then, If Thou, Bound To The Tail Of Folly's Uncurb'd Steed, Must, Vainly Shrieking, With The Drunken Crowd, Eyes Open, Plunge Down Headlong In The Abyss.

Futurity Is Impregnable To Mortal Ken: No Prayer Pierces Through Heaven's Adamantine Walls. Whether The Birds Fly Right Or Left, Whatever Be The Aspect Of The Stars, The Book Of Nature Is A Maze, Dreams Are A Lie, And Every Sign A Falsehood.

There Is Room In The Smallest Cottage For A Happy Loving Pair.