Youth's The Season Made For Joys, Love

Fair Is The Kingcup That In Meadow Blows, Fair Is The Daisy That Beside Her Grows.

I Hate The Man Who Builds His Name On Ruins Of Another's Fame. Thus Prudes, By Characters O'erthrown, Imagine That They Raise Their Own. Thus Scribblers, Covetous Of Praise, Think Slander Can Transplant The Bays.

In Love We Are All Fools Alike.

The Luxury Of Doing Good Surpasses Every Other Personal Enjoyment.

What Frenzy Dictates, Jealousy Believes