For Beauty's tears are lovelier than her smile.

For Beauty's tears are lovelier than her smile.

The patriot's blood is the seed of Freedom's tree.

The patriot's blood is the seed of Freedom's tree.

Tomorrow let us do or die!

To bear is to conquer our fate.

the soul of conversation is sympathy

And muse on Nature with a poet's eye.

Coming events cast their shadows before.

Our purpose is to grow up and become love

His faithful dog salutes the smiling guest.

He scorn'd his own, who felt another's woe.

A stoic of the woods,--a man without a tear.

To live in the hearts of others is not to die

What millions died that Caesar might be great!

To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.

Ye are brothers, ye are men, and we conquer but to save.

Ye are brothers! ye are men! And we conquer but to save.

One moment may with bliss repay Unnumbered hours of pain.

Better be courted and jilted Than never be courted at all.

I'll meet the raging of the skies, but not an angry father.

Oh, how hard it is to find The one just suited to our mind!

Love's a fire that needs renewal Of fresh beauty for its fuel.

Men of England! who inheritRights that cost your sires their blood.

Whose lines are mottoes of the heart,Whose truths electrify the sage.

O leave this barren spot to me! Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree.

The smaller your reality, the more convinced you are that you know everything.

But sad as angels for the good man's sin, Weep to record, and blush to give it in.

Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, and robes the mountain in its azure hue.

For there no yew nor cypress spread their glom But roses blossom'd each rustic tomb.

Beauty's witching sway is now to me a star that's fallen-a dream that's passed away.

Without the smile from partial beauty won, O what were man? - a world without a sun.

Where the Scriptures speak, we speak; where the Scriptures are silent, we are silent.

Truth ever lovely - since the world began, The foe of tyrants, and the friend of man.

The prophet's mantle, ere his flight began, Dropt on the world--a sacred gift to man.

The proud, the cold untroubled heart of stone, that never mused on sorrow but its own.

O star-eyed Science, hast thou wander'd there, To waft us home the message of despair?

What though my winged hours of bliss have been, Like angel visits, few and far between.

Who hath not own'd, with rapture-smitten frame, The power of grace, the magic of a name.

Who hail thee, Man! the pilgrim of the day, spouse of the worm, and brother of the clay.

Our land, the first garden of liberty's tree-- It has been, and shall be, the land of the free.

Love! the surviving gift of Heaven, The choicest sweet of Paradise, In life's else bitter cup distilled.

Your belief systems limit your reality to a sub-set of the solution space that does not contain the answer.

Britannia needs no bulwarks, No towers along the steep; Her march is o'er the mountain waves, Her home is on the deep.

The meteor flag of England Shall yet terrific burn, Till danger's troubled night depart, And the star of peace return.

Ye mariners of England! That guard our native seas; Whose flag has braved a thousand years, The battle and the breeze!

Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky When storms prepare to part, I ask not proud Philosophy To teach me what thou art.

How delicious is the winning Of a kiss at Love's beginning, When two mutual hearts are sighing For the knot there's no untying!

On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly.

The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory or the grave! Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry!

An original something, dear maid, you would wish me to write; but how shall I begin? For I'm sure I have not original in me, Excepting Original Sin.

A man who will not leave his room because he does not know how, or is afraid to open the door, is trapped just the same whether or not the door is locked.

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