Where Ever I Am Not Is The

But A Dandy Can Never Be A Vulgar Man

There Can Be No Progress-real, Moral Prgress-except In The Individual And By The Individual Himself.

How Bittersweet It Is, On Winter's Night, To Listen, By The Sputtering, Smoking Fire, As Distant Memories, Through The Fog-dimmed Light, Rise, To The Muffled Chime Of Churchbell Choir.

It Is By Universal Misunderstanding That All Agree. For If, By Ill Luck, People Understood Each Other, They Would Never Agree.

A Silent Mouth Is Sweet To Hear.