The World Is Not Thy Friend, Nor

Men Have Died From Time To Time, And Worms Have Eaten Them, But Not For Love.

None Can Cure Their Harms By Wailing Them.

And He Goes Through Life, His Mouth Open, And His Mind Closed.

Dreams, Indeed, Are Ambition; For The Very Substance Of The Ambitious Is Merely The Shadow Of A Dream. And I Hold Ambition Of So Airy And Light A Quality That It Is But A Shadow's Shadow.

Oft Expectation Fails, And Most Oft There Where Most It Promises; And Oft It Hits Where Hope Is Coldest, And Despair Most Fits.